


Scorched Earth

by Yngvildr the Voracious (Yngvildr_the_Voracious)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Characters As Children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yngvildr_the_Voracious/pseuds/Yngvildr%20the%20Voracious
Summary: Receiving your Hogwarts letter is a magical moment, Yasha's mum had said. Molly doubted that. He had thought it was a joke at first. It wasn't even addressed to his name. But the Ministry of Magic people had been certain that it was him and that everything was done to find his parents. That was a load of bull. As far as Molly knew, he was Gustav's ward at The Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities. And he wanted to be nothing more.Mother and Father had profusely apologised about this, but this would mean a lot for Mother's career, even if it meant changing countries and eat a little more potatoes with no meat for a little while more. So they had moved to London tofurther international magical cooperation.That was a load of bull. It meant that once again they were going to be hanging at the will of another superior, but this time, far from home and even poorer than before, measuring cauldron bottoms going out of a country and into another. And he wanted so much more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Every fandom needs one ! =D  
> let me know if there's any mistake I am the kind of person who doesn't really work with beta readers and English is not my first language

 

"What if the Hat sorts us in two different houses?" Molly asked Yasha.

 

"Then we won't sleep in the same dormitory and won’t attend classes at the same time."

 

"But what if..."

 

"Molly." Yasha snapped.

 

Silence overtook their compartment.

 

"Everything’s going to be fine. We are going to get sorted, get to class, make some friends, make some enemies, play Quidditch, watch Quidditch and fret about exams. Are we clear?" Yasha barked at Molly.

 

It wasn't very like her, but Molly did not blame her. She was probably just as stressed as he was. Everyone launching into the unknown, like this at barely twelve. Even if they had an idea of what they were going to do.

 

Learn magic, Molly sighed, allowing himself to be lost in thought. To cast spells and brew potions. That's what Yasha's mother had said. At least, Molly had felt a bit reassured. Somehow, somewhere, a part of him was considered normal. Even if being part of the circus made that kids they encountered often called them freaks, Molly had always felt even more so.

 

The Hogwarts Letter hadn't really been the worst part, thanks to Yasha and her witch mother who was able to explain to them what was happening.

 

"What if they have me under my other name?" Molly whispered.

 

"Mum sent a letter. They are honouring your wishes on that front, I'm certain. Professor De Rolo is a nice Headmaster according to Mum. Let's trust him."

 

"What if..."

 

"You're not going to make any friends at school if you continuously spout what ifs!" Yasha interrupted. She then proceeded to retrieve a book, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and started to read it.

 

Well, it was a train, there were nowhere to Yasha-out to.

 

She was right, though. Maybe he ought to be more trustful, more confident. If anyone knew he was scared, they would tease him. Yasha was right. He had to toughen up.

He had to hide his weakness, but how?

 

Molly didn’t have the time to think about it more. Someone suddenly opened the door of their compartment and slammed it behind them.

 

They were tall and lanky, so much that Molly doubted they were in their first year. They wore a faded brown jumper and jeans whose holes had been patched with mismatched fabric. Their ginger hair cascaded around their head and when they turned around, their big, round, piercing blue eyes took in their surroundings and filled with a certain kind of anxiety that reminded Molly of the youngest child in the circus, Toya. Toya when she was asked to speak in front of a crowd.

 

Immediately, Molly knew what to do. He immediately spoke up, hoping to sound light hearted enough.

 

“Oh, hello, you. Wanna sit? We have Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs… Don’t tell our parents, but we’re also brought Muggle Sweets to share. Do you want to try Pink Wafers or Bull’s Eyes first?”

 

“My parents told me not to accept sweets from strangers.” a small voice piped down from down below the newcomer’s waist.

 

All the three taller children’s gaze went below, meeting the rusted copper coloured eyes of what appeared to be a very, very small girl.

 

“Well, that’s a good rule in general.” Molly admitted. “My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends, and I am glad to meet you. Just like Yasha… Right, Yasha?”

 

“Yasha Kord. Nice to meet you, help yourself with the sweets. I don’t like Bull’s Eyes.” Yasha said before moving some of her stuff from the seats and pushing the Muggle marbled sweets towards the two newcomers.

 

“I’m Nott Buttonsmith.” the small voice piped up. “I’m a girl before you ask.” she added with a heavy cockney accent, as if defying them to say otherwise.

 

“Hello Nott and welcome to this compartment. Eat sweets only if you want them.” Molly said as he presented his hand to shake.

Her eyes not leaving his, she took his hand, gingerly, with her gnarly fingers attached to small, burly arms. When they shook their hands, her hair, a dark with some sort of green highlights, shook from where they limply hanged from her grey beanie.

 

Handshake out of the way, Nott _climbed_ into one of the seats and pointedly looked up to the taller student behind her. Feeling the gazes on him, they shivered.

 

“Hmm, _ya..._ I’m Caleb. Caleb Widogast… I guess I’m a boy.” he finally said.

 

“Nice to meet you, Caleb.” Molly told him with a bright smile.

 

Taken with an idea, he searched his backpack and retrieved a faded set of cards.

 

“Who wants to get their fortunes told?” he said, winking.

 

Nott looked curious. Yasha scoffed. Caleb’s eyes squinted into two slits.

 

“Divination is not a skill that’s learned, not really.” he said.

 

“My mom says she took Divination as an elective in Third Year.” Yasha answered.

 

Molly listened to their banter, smiling as he shuffled the cards.

 

“Who wants to go first?” he asked, offering Caleb his widest smile.

 

“No thanks.” The redhead immediately said.

 

“What Caleb said.” Nott was swift to say once presented with the cards.

 

“It’s ok.” Yasha said. “We’ll learn proper Divination in third year. So, where are you guys from?” she asked in turn, apparently, just as loath as Molly to let the discussion die entirely.

 

“I’m from, er… East End.” Nott said, her accent softening, as if she was self-conscious, suddenly.

 

“My parents are from Germany.” Caleb said. “And you?”

 

“I was born near East End.” Yasha said. “Before my mother brought us to the Circus.”

 

“And I only know the circus. I was born in Ireland and only left it when we did the grand British tour.” Molly added. “So I guess I’m a little bit from everywhere!”

 

“That must be nice.” Nott said. “Travelling. Won’t you get tired, staying at school all year? Can you even write to your parents if they move around often?”

 

“There’s a P.O. Box.” Molly shrugged. “In case Gustav can receive Owls, but he is fond of no news, good news.”

 

“Well, you know if you have questions you’re too embarrassed to ask the teachers, you can also write to my Mum.” Yasha said in a soft giggle.

 

“It must be good. To enter Hogwarts with someone you know.” Caleb said.

 

The way he said some words, as if he was whistling them, was odd. Maybe because his parents were German?

 

“Well, you know me now.” Nott said to Caleb. “And I guess we know Molly and Yasha.”

 

“It’s not the same, we met in the train. Molly and Yasha grew up in a circus and can owl each other’s parents because of it.”

 

“Oh… I guess it’s not the same, then. But at least we’re friends, now, right”

 

Molly looked at Nott and Caleb’s exchange, the way Caleb looked inspired by Nott and Nott hopeful. It was strange and endearing.

 

“Yes, we are.” Caleb answered, and something beautiful happened.

 

For the first time since the odd duo had entered the compartment, Caleb’s lips stretched in a wide toothy smile full of pearly white teeth too wide for his jaw and Molly was blinded by it.

 

Turning back to Nott, Molly felt ashamed to think that she didn’t look like much, her size that of a four year old, so much that she had to physically climb a seat before settling on it. Her own smile was made of crooked teeth and it made wrinkles appear around her eyes that made Molly think of the Goblins he saw at the bank in Diagon Alley.

 

For a second, Molly wished someone, anyone, would smile at him like Nott and Caleb smiled to each other.

 

The little party of four spent the time chatting away the anxiety. Yasha and Caleb spoke about the Defense of the Dark Arts book. Nott looked at Molly as if he was about to eat her and stared at his scar.

 

“No, I'm not Harry Potter in disguise.” Molly joked.

 

Caleb laughed and Nott grumbled. Yasha said nothing but her eyes narrowed into slits. Molly shrugged. A voice rang in the whole train, informing them that the Hogwarts Express would reach its destination in thirty minutes. Molly’s stomach suddenly became a bag of knots.

 

Similarly, Nott and Caleb’s face drained of all blood while Yasha took deep calming breaths.

 

“I guess we’ll let you girls get into your robes first.” Caleb told Yasha and Nott, standing up.

 

Molly and Caleb closed the door behind them. Similarly, several students, some in their Muggle dress, others in robes, were chattering. Caleb was hunched as they waited and similarly, he tried to hide his whole body behind his shoulders as he later put on a faded black robe, frayed at the ends and seemingly very old and probably having belonged to an older siblings or maybe an uncle.

 

Outside, Nott was hiding between Yasha’s legs, her robe a much better quality, but her hat having trouble staying on her head properly on account of the shape of her ears, slightly pointed at the top.

 

“No, no, no, you don’t understand, I have to keep the hat on.” Nott was whining as Yasha crouched to be on a level with her.

 

“You will have to put it off to be sorted.” Molly said.

 

“Yes.” Caleb added. “Do you remember when we read it in _Hogwarts: A History_?”

 

Nott nodded, not looking at all happy. Molly crouched in turn and removed the hat, taking handful of dark green hair and carefully arranging them to frame the little girl’s face, effectively hiding the pointed ears.

 

“There, we don’t see them anymore.” he told her before caressing her hair one last time and straightening back up.

 

Nott only looked marginally reassured and as the train slowly came to a halt, she stayed hidden between Caleb and Yasha.

 

Molly was at the front, trying to navigate the mass of students, tall, lean, small, round, all talking, gossip, schoolwork, Hogsmeade Weekends. It was all fascinating, he thought as the platform filled with laughing and shouting masses. At some point, someone pushed Caleb into his side and Molly took a pointy elbow to the ribs.

 

“Watch it, weirdo.” Molly heard a taller student tell the redheaded young wizard.

 

Caleb’s head seemingly went further into his shoulders than before after that, the group not able to confront the older student who was parting the crowd like the Red Sea.

 

“Where are we even supposed to go?” Molly complained.

 

“Over here!” Yasha exclaimed, pointing her finger in the direction some students, smaller ones, were separating from their taller schoolmates.

 

“FIRST YEARS! FIRST YEARS! COME AND SEE ME IF YOU’RE A FIRST YEAR!”

 

The tallest man Molly had ever seen (and Bo was very tall!) was shouting at the top of his considerable lungs.

 

“Let’s make our way over there.” Nott piped up from somewhere in their legs. “I want to breathe more than Molly’s calves.”

 

“What’s wrong with my calves?” Molly wondered out loud before Yasha and Caleb pushed him forward.

 

“Nothing.” Nott said hurriedly as they arrived near the goliath of a man who was now shouting.

 

“IS THAT ALL FIRST YEARS?! ARE YOU ALL HERE?”

 

“I think so, Mister Grog!” a high pitched voice sing songed to their left. “Can we get into the school to get Sorted and have very good grades and behave, now?”

 

“Well, we can now that everyone is accounted for!” Mister Grog said with a tone of voice that seemed to be his speaking voice but very much counted like shouting to Molly. “Follow me little Firsties.”

 

The walk from the station in the dark forest was treacherous to eleven years olds (give or take). So much that Caleb suddenly stopped and took Nott in his arms rather than let her stumble and fumble between their legs. It was quite the good idea for him to do so because Molly would have dropped the little girl upon seeing the castle.

 

He had seen Gustav pet lions and tigers and make them run towards a crowd for a scare. He had seen Bo swallow swords and break walls and Ornna jump into fiery circles of flames at thirty feet of height and always catch the rope on the other side.

 

He had never seen such a great, dark, body of water into which was reflected an equally huge castle illuminated by what seemed like ten thousands lights. Molly didn’t hear all the exclamations of his fellow new students over his own enthusiastic and vocal surprise.

 

“This is so big.” Nott whispered.

 

Molly bit back a _that’s what she said_ (something Bo often said but Molly had only a vague idea of what it meant.) and followed the lead of the giant man, Mr Grog.

 

“Now, all of you are going to enter the boats. No more than four of you per boat. Four rhymes with oar! I will know if you don’t obey that rule because I’ll have to drag your bums out of the lake before the Giant Squid gets a hold of you!”

 

“A Giant Squid?” Molly wondered. “That’s fascinating! Can we tickle it?”

 

“Don’t recommend it.” Mr Grog answered as he helped a student with a green ribbon in her hair.

 

“Get into the boat.” Caleb said, sullenly.

 

He had reserved a skiff where Nott was already installed, gripping the wooden sides of it, looking unsure. Yasha and Molly finally followed them and settled, the taller girl taking one of the oars and pushing them off the shore like several students had started to do already.

 

“Once you’ve pushed, rowing is unnecessary, those are magicky little boats. We’ll see each other on the shore and wait for m… YOU! OVER THERE, DON’T ROCK THE BOAT!”

 

Molly only had the time to turn around at that. Only the splash was seen and heard as well as “OSKAR!” shouted in a high pitched, yearning voice.

 

“What happened?”

 

“The girl with the ponytail was rocking the boat.”

 

“Oskar is a dumb name!”

 

“Let me see!”

 

Another splash was heard as Mr Grog dove under water.

 

“Mr Grog is so brave.”

 

“Mr Grog doesn’t want to get fired, yeah.”

 

The chatter kept on but no one could sea under the dark waters and thus, once all hypotheses were thrown in the air and the first boats started to reach their destination, the students were suddenly extremely silent and Molly too started to feel uneasy. Was a student going to drown on their first year? He had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact.

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, something emerged. Mr Grog first, swimming to shore. Then a boy with a green sheen to his skin, similarly making his way to the good side of the lake in an expert way.

 

“He swims really well for someone we feared had drowned.” Yasha said as everyone else cheered.

 

“Did you see the Giant Squid?”

 

“Is your name really Oskar?”

 

The wet boy didn’t say a thing. He simply held his arms extended to his sides as if to ward off the onslaught of questions and then puked all over the floor, causing a chorus of disgusted screams.

 

“Gross!” the girl with the ponytail spat.

 

“Now that this is over, let’s go to the castle, otherwise the Headmaster is going to tan my hide quite litterally.” Mr *Grog said before spitting back his share of water back into the lake, renewing the disgusted effusions.

 

“Well, that’s a good first day of school.” Molly exclaimed.

 

“Someone almost drowned.” Caleb pointed out.

 

“And swam to the shore like he trained for the Olympics.” Yasha added.

 

“What are the Olympics?” Nott asked as they all turned around.

 

“We’ll explain later. For now, time for wizard stuff!” Molly exulted, making his way towards the castle, taking the sight of Hogwarts at night one last time.

 


	2. Chapter 2

If the sight of the castle was enchanting, then the Great Hall where Mr Grog was leading them was stunning. Reading about the enchanted ceiling reflecting the night sky outside was nothing compared to actually seeing it, the candles floating under it giving an ethereal quality to the air that made Caleb momentarily forget where he was and why he was there. 

 

A tall woman with long braided dark hair and a hat adorned with blue feathers was waiting for them at the end of the Great Hall, where the four tables ended, where the other students stared, wherr the professor’s table started, where the teachers stared.

 

Caleb was not good at this. 

 

The tall woman unrolled a sheet of parchment and started to speak but Caleb had a hard time listening. He was the tallest student in their year, maybe because he was a year older from having started his education in Durmstrang last year. He wished he could have stayed there. It had taken so long to get a good foot in and now here he was, in Britain, a whole new country whose language he still had trouble grasping all the subtleties. 

 

A song was sung and then a name was called, that was all he understood and Caleb felt both relieved when the second name confirmed his first assumption that this was the alphabetical order. When Bs made ways to Cs, he felt little arms catch his leg. 

 

Buttonsmith. Nott had been skipped. Nott was trembling even more than Caleb and he knew why. With her small size and the way she had been hanging around the London branch of Gringott’s bank, she definitely had a Goblin parent. Did she even have the right to attend Hogwarts? 

 

Thinking about Nott’s predicament helped his own state. As Beauregard Golechâstel was dispatched into Gryffindor, Caleb ran several theories in his mind that he ranked based from the difference between Goblin and Wizards culture. Maybe that’s what Father had been talking about “ _ Department of Magical Creatures losing their minds _ ”?

 

One thing was certain. British Wizards were nicer to Goblins than German Wizards were. 

 

“Kord, Yasha!” the woman called.

 

Yasha, the other girl from the train, was almost as tall as he but rather broad, her cheeks very full, so when she parted the crowd of children, she did so effortlessly and Caleb envied her. 

 

She sat on the little three legged stool and the teacher with the list and the feathers lowered the tattered hat on her dark hair. Only now did Caleb notice that her eyes were not the same colour. 

 

The silence was complete for a full minute before a large gash on the side of the hat opened largely and yelled  _ Hufflepuff _ . 

 

Again, Caleb’s mind flew away back to his friend’s sorting predicament when the deafening applause to his left welcomed the young girl in their midst. 

 

He could still see it, seared in his mind, how she flew at the taller, older student’s legs and how she caught his hand and managed to smuggle them out of the compartment, out of that part of the train. 

 

_ She will surely be a Gryffindor. Then I’ll be alone again because I am a coward.  _

 

_ “Lavinia Lavorre.” _

 

_ “Gryffindor!” _

 

Caleb sighed as the girl with the lollipop stauntered to the Gryffindor table. She was going to be doing great there. She was going to be protected by more capable classmates than he. She was going to earn proper stripes. Well, maybe here in Hogwarts there were no stripes to earn for good behaviour? Unless it was replaced with the points system. Caleb liked it. It made for better group cohesion. Working together. 

 

_ Keeping each other line, the person not contributing enough or losing points becoming a pariah, thrown to the wolves.  _

 

“Double edged sword.” Caleb muttered to himself. 

 

_ “Kara Malfoy.” _

 

_ “Slytherin.” _

 

The S were skipped entirely. The next name rang between Caleb’s ears as if it were his own.  _ Mollymauk Tealeaf. _ The boy was strange. A well read Muggleborn. Maybe his friend’s mother was the cause. Caleb didn’t know. 

 

Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin. The woman told the name on her list with a finality that the hat only emphasized. There was a before and an after the Sorting Hat Caleb felt. Deciding who he was going to be at twelve years old, really? What kind of system was that? At least, for all its faults, Durmstrang emphasized merit and grades rather than hollow virtues. 

 

Mollymauk Tealeaf. For a second, the boy had shivered. Then he had taken a deep breath and literally  _ strutted _ to the stool, sitting in one smooth and swift motion and making a sign with his index fingers towards the teacher, along with a smile, earning a confused look. 

 

Caleb waited with baited breath. And waited. The whole room was confused when the fifth minute started. 

 

“It’s a Hatstall!” someone shouted. 

 

_ Hatstall? What’s a Hatstall?  _

 

Caleb was confused. He never read anything about Hatstalls. The room erupted into hushed whispers like a volcano suddenly shaking awake, dripping lava. Behind the stool and the teacher with the feathered hat, a bespectacled man with long white hair clapped his hands and suddenly, silence came back to room. 

 

“For those who don’t know, a Hatstall happens when the Sorting Hat takes more than five complete minutes to chose a house for a student. It has happened countless times in the History of Hogwarts and it’s going to happen again. Now remain calm, Mr Tealeaf and Sir Hat are talking.”

 

It was true, Caleb thought. The Hat might be a hat but Molly was a wizard boy. His lips, almost hidden by the wide brim of the hat (meant to fit a grown man and a tall one at that), were moving. He was in deep conversation. one that he liked, judging by the way they were stretched.  

 

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the hat yelled a deafening  _ GRYFFINDOR. _ To which the table on Caleb’s right answered with a roar worthy of its heraldry. 

 

Below, Nott’s grip on his leg had become almost painful when Fjord Tough was sent to Slytherin. Caleb realised he should try and find words to comfort her. Maybe her name had been added at the last minute at the very bottom of the list? It sounded too good to be true and he doubted he could make her feel bet…

 

“Caleb Widoghast.”

 

Cold seized Caleb. He felt like he was underwater, pressured. Nott’s hands released his leg and he looked at her as if she was the shore and the empty space between them and the hat was a stormy sea. She patted him and offered him a smile. 

 

_ So brave. _

 

Taking small steps at first but hurrying to the point of running the last two. The teacher didn’t spare him a look, instead staring at her paper. He had the time to read a spiky scrawl beneath his own name that looked like it was added at the last minute… 

 

Well, take that too good to be true, he thought, feeling his happiness at his friend replace the sinking feeling in his heart, his throat loosen, the darkness fall before his eyes. 

 

_ Hallo, Junge.  _

_ You… you speak my language? _

_ I only see your mind.  _

 

Caleb felt the panic ease up further. Riddles, enigmas. Finding what was hidden. 

 

_ What are… _

_ Quite inquisitive, indeed, but very insecure. Your thirst for knowledge hides insecurities… I wonder how you would fare in Ravenclaw. You are quite tricky, even more so than the one before.  _

_ I’m not br… _

_ Brave? Oh, no, though you have plenty of backbone and would not be a bad fit, bravery like Gryffindor’s is not your favoured path. You are not afraid of hard work either, what is it you’re afraid of, kleiner Junge? _

 

Immediately, flames came to mind. Fire, fickle, warm, burning, powerful. 

 

_ Hmmmm, yes… You yearn for it and yet you fear it. Quite the balancing act, one that would make you perfect for…  _

_ Can I choose? _

 

The three words had slithered in his mind, hiding between the tall grass of the mental conversation. The Hat turned silent and Caleb, confused, tilted his head to the side, making the light flicker on his left where a sliver of it made it through to his eyes. 

 

Choose. Was the hat waiting for him to answer out loud? Or should they be saying it at the same t…

 

_ “SLYTHERIN!” _

 

The Sorting Hat was removed from his head and Caleb stayed seated for a second, stunned as the leftmost table in the room started to cheer and shout. 

 

“Go on, boy.” the teacher whispered to his ear before she called, finally. “Nott Buttonsmith!”

 

By the time Caleb had found a seat at the Slytherin table, Nott was already running toward him, enlacing him in a warm hug. 

 

“I am so happy, we’re going to be in the same house!”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

_ Just like Draco Malfoy’s sorting in 91’. The Hat barely touched her head. Is she really of age? _

 

Caleb took the whispers in and took a good look at the new students of his House. Slytherin. He took a deep breath and gave Nott a huge smile. 

 

“I’m happy about it too.” he answered Nott as they sat down and listened to the Headmaster’s speech. 

 

He had Nott. Caleb felt strong. He had chosen his House and Nott was with him.

 

Maybe Britain was not so bad after all. 


	3. Chapter 3

Hogwarts was sometimes loud, sometimes quiet and Molly loved to contemplate these moments. 

 

“Please, open your books page nineteen and consult the recipe for the Boil Curing Potion.” Professor Darrington said.

 

Potion was doomed to be one of the quiet ones. Focus was key when you were scared the cauldron was going to explode in your face. There was even a scale for each event not supposed to happen in class on a chalkboard floating around the classroom, which was situated in the dungeons. A melting cauldron was ten points, chatter unrelated to the class was five.

 

“Now, unlike my predecessor I have no reason to favour one house over the other, but you wouldn't know how Professor De Rolo is like as a Potions Master, would you.”

 

In fact Molly had an idea based on his welcoming speech a week ago. He was the no nonsense and no frills kind of guy. It was actually weird to think he would favour his House. Which was it, already?

 

“But I will let you know that when I was a student, I was a proud member of Rowena’s House of Wisdom and Wit, so let me know if you see your Ravenclaw comrades misbehave and I will take care of them.”

 

Darrington’s voice was quite agreeable. He sounded like nobility should sound like. A bit pompous, but also slowly taking the time to explain a particular step or a particular reaction whenever he was asked in a sincere enough manner. 

 

Molly raised his hand in turn, out of curiosity. 

 

“Yes, Mr Tealeaf, is that it?”

 

“Yes, sir. I was wondering, the book says nothing of what you’re explaining when we’re asking about the ingredients and why they go into the potion at which time or . Is this supposed to be advanced?”

 

“Yes, indeed, Mr Tealeaf.” Professor Darrington answered. “Do you think you can tell us why the book is how it is?”

 

The class had become silent, focused on the exchange between Molly and the professor. 

 

“Well… The first page of the book is all about how to light up the firen making sure to have our dragonhide gloves on and not to touch the cauldron with our bare hands, so, maybe they want us to focus more on the basics before starting with the complicated chemical reaction between the porcupine quills and the, er… Horned slugs?” Molly added, inspecting the recipe in his book.

 

“Exactly, Mr Tealeaf. One step at a time and we’ll make proper Potioneers out of you, if not masters. However, despite the similarities and the temptation to attach familiar concepts to a new discipline, please refrain to refer to Potions as “chemistry” when you are not in presence of Muggles. It will help your integration in the Magical World.”

 

“Understood, sir.”

 

“Oh and let’s give 10 points to Gryffindor for your sensible thinking. Godric was brave, but not imprudent.”

 

Molly’s smile stretched from ear to ear and the Gryffindor students similarly whispered in agreement, Beauregard Golechâstel specifically being extra loud. The Slytherin students were silent aside from one of them who gave away an ambiguous sound between a cough and a laugh. 

 

“Mr Widogast. I see you’re finished with your potion already.” Professor Darrington said. 

 

Behind Molly, Caleb and Nott, sharing a table were in a peculiar situation. First, Caleb’s own cauldron looked finished, a pink smoke fuming above it. It was a bit rough compared to the professor’s own cauldon’s delicate fume, but Caleb had brewed his potion in a record time and it seems he had been helping Nott get hers done.

 

“I am quite happy to see you are eager to pass around your Potion knowledge around to your classmates, but I must insist that you do not work in Miss Buttonsmith’s stead. For her own good, of course. Five points from Slytherin, Miss Buttonsmith for that remark about Mr Tealeaf.”

 

Nott was not tall. In fact, she was standing on a chair to try and reach the table and even then, she had to precariously climb on a pile of books which Molly suspected where the day’s material.

 

Nott also shrunk a good five inches into herself when the teacher removed points and Molly winced. A girl, smaller than any other student, with features children could easily mock, did not need to lose points.

 

Nott’s eyes, shining like ambers, stared Molly down fiercely until he turned back to his own unfinished potion. 

He was still curious, what did she say to earn it? So when he packed his bag at the end of class, he did so quickly and efficiently, mirroring Nott's rapid jump and surprisingly adept spell that made all the books fly into her bag.

 

“Remember that casting spells in the corridors is forbidden, Miss Buttonsmith.”

 

“She’s in the classroom, sir. You can see she's putting her books in her bag.” Molly immediately said.

 

Professor Darrington huffed and shooed the students out. 

 

Nott was surprisingly fast but, carefully navigating between Jester and Fjord, Molly managed to tail Caleb and Nott, apparently headed to the Great Hall via a corridor Molly didn't know yet.

 

“Seriously, who do he think he is, that Mollymauk? Do you trust him, Caleb?”

 

“No. Not really...”

 

Molly stopped in his tracks as they turned, not left towards the Great Hall, but deeper. Probably to their Common Room. 

 

He didn't know exactly why he felt so disappointed. Maybe because he was alone in Gryffindor while Caleb and Nott had each other and Yasha was in Herbology with the Ravenclaw students. They had crossed path earlier when Molly made his way from the greenhouses and into the Dungeons.

 

Molly took a deep breath and turned around. It was Friday and lunchtime. There was more fun to have upstairs than below the ground.

 

The weather was still beautiful outside when Molly made his way to the Great Hall. The skies above were clear and it made the perspective of learning how to fly on a broom a little more exciting. 

 

So far, the week had treated him well. He already hated one of his housemates and loved another to pieces. Jester was lovely and hated to be called Lavinia or, Merlin forbid, Miss Lavorre. She often spoke of her mother and how she was  _ super famous.  _ At some point, Beauregard, the sullen and easily offended classmate he had a lot of trouble to fake affection for, had threatened to hex his nose off, he had extended both arms, wand ostensibly left on the table. 

 

“Come on, do your worst!”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“I’ve never been hexed before. This should be fun.”

 

Beauregard had looked confused and lowered her wand before turning around, her ponytail swishing behind her and the common room had congratulated Molly on having quite solid guts. 

 

“We’re first years. We just learned the Levitation Spell. How was she going to hex me?” Molly had scoffed. 

 

Now Beauregard and him didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but it was apparently ok to ask her for broom riding tips. 

 

“I’m quite looking forward to flying.” was the only thing he had to say before the girl launched into a passionate passive aggressive rant about brooms, Quidditch, Quidditch Teams, Quidditch players and the wide First Year ban on brooms and Quidditch Playing.

 

“It's so unfair, man. You know Harry Potter was the youngest player in a hundred years. It's been a hundred more and I'm never going to be it.” Beau was whining all the way to the Quidditch Pitch.

 

“Tell me what position you play again?”

 

“Seeker. With my eyes, I see so much, man!” The girl had answered, sounding blasé, as she put on a pair of goggles.

 

Molly raised an eyebrow. Behind them, it seemed the other students were coming. Looking at all the different faces, he quickly spotted Yasha.

 

At last, a class in common with her! And a fun one at that. 

 

In fact all students of every house was represented. At some point, Molly heard Beau shout a  _ hey! _ When Caleb and Nott walked past her, followed by another Slytherin boy. The one who had fallen in the Lake.

 

“Now, everyone will be silent.” A voice came from above, thundering.

 

“I'm not a nerd.” Beau shouted at the Slytherin students, at the same time the crowd had gone silent.

 

“Miss Golechâtel. Five points from Gryffindor.”

 

A couple of Slytherin students snickered. Caleb didn't, but he did have an eyebrow raised. 

 

“My name is Vexahlia Vessar, Deputy Headmistress, and I am going to be your Flight Instructor. At the end of this year, most of you won't see me teaching ever again. However, if you chose the Care for Magical Creatures elective, we might meet again. Of course, if you are in trouble, you may meet me again, and not for the better”

 

The teacher was just as pretty as when she had read all their names at the sorting. She had foregone the cloak but she still had her feathered hat, the blue adornment not bothered by the breeze. She also held a sleek looking broom. 

 

“A Witch’s Flight X.” Beauregard sighed, dying with envy and 

 

Beauregard had shown him all sorts of broom. Travel brooms. Sports brooms for the quick Seekers, sturdy brooms for the flighty Chasers. Stable brooms for the Beaters and brooms with Extra-Grips and Automated Last Minute Recuperation for the Keepers. 

 

Professor Vessar’s broom looked nothing like it. The wood was a blueish white and the tail, looking like a painter’s brush, looked like it was made of scales. 

 

“What kind of broom is the Witch’s Flight X”.

 

“The very first broom made of wood and Japanese Necro-Dragon scales.” a girl to his right said. 

 

“Yeah, or just the first broom ever to be made of Dragon Scales, miss know-it-all.” Beauregard spat in direction of the other student. 

 

Someone at her own left elbowed her in the ribs, Fjord Tough, the Slytherin that had come to the pitch with Caleb and Nott. The one that Beau had inadvertently (so she said) thrown into the lake during a heated discussion on the boat. 

 

Molly took a deep breath. He shouldn’t get involved in this. 

 

“Watch your tongue, Gol.” Fjord hissed between his teeth. 

 

Definitely no involvement. Molly thought as he took the smallest step toward the other girl. She looked like one of the Ravenclaws Yasha was speaking with this morning. Where was the Hufflepuff girl anyway?

 

“It’s Golechâtel. Learn it.” Beau snapped back between her own gritted teeth. 

 

Oblivious to the fight, which happened on a part of the rows of first years she wasn’t watching anymore, too busy naming all the parts on a broom and asking Quidditch questions to the crowd. 

 

“No… I think I’ll keep calling you Gol.” Fjord answered before turning his head back to the teacher. 

 

“Think you’re tougher than me?” Beau tried, Molly wasn’t quite sure she didn’t know she was beat and risked point loss now. 

 

“I  _ am _ Tough.” Fjord snickered. 

 

Molly had to admit, it was a really good one. On his right, the girl had her eyes down cast. 

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her. It’s ok to know everything. It’s also ok to know nothing.” he whispered. 

 

The girl’s eyes were suddenly back to the teacher and sparkled, though Molly didn’t know if it was the teacher’s demonstration or his words. 

 

Professor Vessar was graceful on a broom. She flew only a couple of feet off the ground, demonstrating straight flight at a slow speed and a giant arc to turn around at a similarly snail-like pace.

 

She then lowered herself to the ground until both feet were touching the ground and exaggerated her dismounting the broom for their sake. Someone on the far right yelled “GO HARPIES!” to which Beau answered with a shout!

 

“Professor Vessar used to play for the Holyhead Harpies when she was young.” the girl told him. 

 

Molly nodded in thanks. He remembered Beau saying it was her favourite team. 

 

“The one with only… Witches as players?”

 

The girl nodded with enthusiasm as the professor, and former professional Quidditch player, pointed behind her and students suddenly ran. 

 

“Walk carefully and be calm! These are school brooms and they are all in the same state, no one is getting a better broom than another!”

 

Molly turned to his left but Beau had been among the runners as well as most Slytherins aside from Caleb, Nott and Fjord. 

 

Trying to find Yasha, Molly decided to jog as well. Behind him, Caleb and Nott were commenting on the class and Fjord was following their slow walk. 

 

The now Hufflepuff student was on the far left of the grounds next to a broom with a handle that threatened to snap in half. A free broom next to her was easily taken over as it had the same particular quality. 

 

“Now. When I count to three, you will say “up!” with your hand right above the broom! One… two… MISS GOLECHÂTEL!”

 

“GIVE IT BACK!” Fjord was screaming. 

 

Molly had been ready to say the word, but now the whole class was watching the sky as Beau juggled with a small ball at now more than ten feet above the ground, seated on her broom with the ease of someone who had ridden them from the beginning of their childhood.

 

“Mr Fjord, if you do this, you too will lose a hundred point for your house.”

 

“I want it back!” the Slytherin student snarled.

 

Professor Vessar, just like everyone else, saw Fjord pick up the broom and mount it, flying with much more clumsily (was it rage or inexperience?), chasing Beauregard. 

 

Red in the face, from rage or shame, Molly couldn't say, Professor Vessar mounted her own broom again.

 

“If I find anyone in the air once I'm done wrangling these fools, they will be back home before they had the time to say Quidditch.” 

 

The pure venom dripping from her mouth made a few students freeze and Molly smile. He was considering taking Care for Magical Creatures later. 

 

She took off with a boom and before they had the time to recover, the teacher was chasing the two foolhardy students. 

 

“Well, congratulation Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for winning the House Cup!” Molly shouted. “Now, she said we shouldn’t be in the air but I see no harm in practicing that other little thing.”

 

Trying not to care about the stares and managing quite well, Molly cleared his throat. 

 

“UP!” he shouted. 

 

He didn’t quite expect the broom to jump to his nose. The only reason he did not fall was thanks to the Ravenclaw girl.

 

He didn't mind the laughter. They were all in good faith. He must have looked pretty funny. He'd have laughed as well, had he not been on the painful receiving end of this particular spell.

 

“No, it’s too hard. You spooked it.” he heard a voice on his left. 

 

“Oh, how should I say it, Caleb?” Molly asked, still rubbing his nose.

 

Suddenly, all eyes were on the Slytherin boy. He turned pale for a second but Molly, expecting it after seeing their behaviour on the train and in Potion this morning, saw Nott squeeze Caleb’s calf discreetly. 

 

Caleb, extended his hand in front of him, palm down, his eyes not leaving Molly’s.

 

“You're not above the broom…” Jester started to say.

 

“ _ Steh auf!” _

 

The strange word was firm and soft at the same time, betraying expertise as well as respect.

 

Behind Caleb, a broom swiftly rose and hovered all the way to his hand where Caleb, with a smile, let his hand run on the broom handle and let it hover there a second before speaking to it as he seized it. 

 

_ “Besen, bitte. _ ”

 

There was no challenge in Caleb’s eyes, though there was some mischief when he said the second German phrase. Was it a thanks? Maybe a little nervousness as well, especially when Yasha hooted and prompted the other students to applause. 

 

Molly turned to his own broom. It was the first time he was seeing a magical broom, he simply couldn’t replicate Caleb’s mastery over the objects. 

 

He was for all intents and purposes a Muggleborn. And a Muggleborn he would stay. 

 

“Up!” Mollymauk said in a perfect imitation of Caleb’s tone. 

 

The broom below him obediently came to rest in his hand. 

 

“Oh, my, thank you!” Molly said in the general direction of the broom, his grin threatening to split his face.

 

“Up!” Jester said! 

 

_ Up!Up!Up! _

 

Soon, everyone was congratulating each other, helping each other, until everyone managed to catch their broom properly, if not perfectly. 

 

Molly decided to sit on the broom, test the floating capabilities. He didn’t actually trust himself to fly. 

 

“Professor Vessar said not to mount the brooms.” a Hufflepuff boy remarked.

 

“No.” Caleb said. “She said she would expel anyone who was found in the air when she was back. I see no problem in using the broom as a seat as long as the feet are on the ground.”

 

“Yes, she said that.” Another voice added, Molly recognised the girl Beau had bullied. 

 

She was sitting on the broom as well, obviously used to it.

 

“My sister sometimes makes me do this on her broom, but it's a Quidditch broom, so… Look!”

 

The girl's feet were barely touching the ground but the exercise looked a lot like sitting on a swing. Molly wanted to try that.

 

Nott had another idea.

 

She walked up to the other girl settled near her with her broom, seemingly to copy the movement. However, at the moment everyone expected Nott to climb and sit on the broom, negligently floating just above her nose, she jumped on the tail of it, suddenly looking as graceful as a ballet dancer.

 

Soon, she was floating in circles, gliding around like the broom was a skateboard, the magical item only staying a couple of inches off the ground.

 

“See, I'm not in the air!” Nott cackled, her arms extended and her hair caught by the wind, revealing her pointed ears.

 

Molly looked around to see if the other students noticed. Only Caleb did so and instead of jeers, there were only smiles, shouts of encouragement and wonderment (especially from Jester because  _ ohmygodican’tbelieveyoucandothatthisissocool _ ). 

 

Soon, every student was at least using the broom as a swing under the guidance of the girl who had shown the trick and Nott was teaching Molly how to stand on the broom, unsuccessfully. After a while spent eating the lawn, he gave up.

 

“It's totally your thing. I'm going to try and learn the normal way first.”

 

None of the students went high and it was good, because soon, a shadow appeared high in the sky, prompting the students to stop what they were doing.

 

It was Professor Vessar.

 

“Well, I did say no one in the air. So let's say ever house only loses five points.” she said as she landed, prompting grimaces. “Now, tell me everything you've been doing.”

 

“Caleb taught us how to say “UP” in German!” Molly started immediately.

 

“Then Valora taught us how to swing on the broom like on a Muggle swing!” Yasha added, smiling at Valora.

 

“Then Nott used the broom like a skateboard!” Another Hufflepuff student said, his hair yellow.  “She wasn't high at all, just an inch from the ground, but it was really cool.”

 

The look Professor Vessar gave Valora and Nott was dark. Ultimately she asked.

 

“Is that all?”

 

Every student shifted from one leg to another, looking unsure. Nott had retreated in Caleb's robes.

 

“Ten points for Mr Widogast and Miss Buttonsmith.” The professor whispered. “Now go away, it's Friday, the Ravenclaw Quidditch team is holding their first practice before the tryouts. To which none of you are to participate, of course.”

 

“Well.” Molly sighed as the teacher gathered the brooms with a flick of her wand and left. “Isn't she a ray of sunshine.”

 

“She's always like this.” Valora said. “Our brother used to say, it's because she actually has a second broom in her…”

 

“Molly!” Yasha shouted. “I forgot, do you want to come with me to Grog’s place?”

 

“Grog, the…”

 

“Yes, the Groundskeeper.” Yasha said. “Look, he’s super nice and I like to have tea with him. Come with me.”

 

“Hmm, sure. Can Jester come?” Molly asked, looking behind his shoulder to look at Caleb, ruffling Nott’s hair and smiling at her as they departed for the castle. 

 

“Yes, I guess she can.” Yasha said. “Quick, that way he doesn’t have to escort us to dinner afterwards.” 

 

Molly called on Jester, followed Yasha, well, Grog was fun. This promised not to be boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the next chapter is Beau and Fjord's recknoning. They are ooc, but they are also children


	4. Chapter 4

Beauregard flew higher and higher, the little ball clutched in her hand as she started second-guessing herself.

 

What if she actually got expelled.

 

Taking an abrupt u-turn, she faced Fjord. Nervousness crept into her belly. Was she still sure about this? She didn't know, but in for a Knut, in for a Galleon, right? 

Fjord was a bit clumsy on the broom, but he was nowhere near bad. She put it on a first time flying at such heights. The gnawing in her stomach got worse.

 

“Give it back!” Fjord screamed, not slowing. In fact it looked like he was accelerating, ready to ram into Beau who only narrowly missed him.

 

“What's this thing anyway?” Beau lashed out, looping back to face Fjord again.

 

His own turn wasn't as graceful but it was impressive.

 

“I need it!” He said, again approaching. 

 

“You want it so much? Catch!” Beau yelled, winding her arm and throwing it. 

 

Fjord’s reflexes were excellent, despite the broom’s lack of qualities. He instantly dove to the right direction at a great speed and disappeared the treeline.

 

“Tough!” Beau heard.

 

Only did Beau realise that below was the Forbidden Forest.

 

“Oh, shit.” She said, diving after Fjord. Soon, a broom caught up with hers. Vessar’s.

 

“Stop immediately or I will immobilise you, Miss Golechâstel.” She warned.

 

Beau stabilised and stopped her nosedive and the teacher did so as well.

 

“Which direction to Fjord Tough.” The woman asked.

 

“Below. I threw his ball-thingy over there.” Beau huffed.

 

“You will fly to the edge of the forest and find Grog’s cabin. You are to land there and stay there. I will know if you disobeyed and will punishment will only be more severe. If you land before, you will be on foot in a forest teeming with dangerous creatures from which you cannot defend yourself yet.”

 

Beau gave a nod, a ball forming in her throat. Her mind was going numb, dreams seem to appear only to be shattered in her mind as soon as they had formed in her head. 

 

“Go.” Vessar said, her voice suddenly a tad softer.

 

Beau kicked her broom into action once more at a measured pace. She was not in a hurry, the rush of adrenaline had come and gone. It was over. Over.

 

She tried to imagine her parent's reactions but somehow, she could only picture their indifference. Maybe some contempt added in there. She didn’t know what would hurt more. 

 

Beauregard saw the treeline and the wooden cabin appear. Grog was already waiting, his wand hand in a tight fist against his hip, as well as Professor Zephrah, eyebrows knitted together and long red hair cascading to her waist.

 

Beau had to rethink all of her own personal guilt trip. She had only known Professor Zephrah for a week, but disappointing her Herbology Teacher, the Head of her own House, at this moment, felt like the absolute worst. 

 

When the Prefect had opened the portrait of the Fat Lady to the form of the tall red haired woman, Beau had been floored. She was so beautiful in her green robes, but now, standing in the middle of the warm and welcoming Common Room, only flanked by the older Prefects and not hidden amongst the teachers behind that blasted Hat, she was majestuous and the beautiful and ornate barrettes in her hair made her look like she actually had flower covered antlers. 

 

She was beautiful and she was smart and kind and she had introduced herself to every student with her name and a smile, asking for the same simple things in return, before warmingly welcoming them in the House of Gryffindor. 

 

Really, Professor Zephrah was a gem and suddenly, Beau feared that this was going to be the end. Even if she ended up in detention for the remainder of her school years, especially if she did, she would forever dread the woman’s stern, disappointed green eyes. 

 

Beau landed and soon, another person arrived on site. Her throat constricted further upon seeing Headmaster De Rolo there. 

 

“Grog. Keyleth!” he exclaimed. “Are the students alright?”

 

“Yes, they are.” Professor Vessar’s voice said. 

 

The Flying Instructor and Care for Magical Creatures teacher had now landed and Fjord Tough, looking greener than usual, was holding his hands together tight. 

 

“Now that we’re all here, we should go ahead.” Professor De Rolo said, his glasses gleaming in the sun. “Do you mind if we use your home, Grog? I’d like to go back to work soon. And, hmm, let’s start with the ladies, Miss Golechâstel, start talking about what happened.”

 

The door was opened and Beau had trouble gathering her thoughts. What happened? Well, she’d been a bitch. It didn’t seem like the right answer. 

 

De Rolo himself prepared tea for all of them, his wand swishing and each cup distributed with a nod. When that was done, all eyes were on her and Beau just couldn’t do anything aside from watching the inside of her cup. 

 

“I…” she started. 

 

She swallowed the lump in her throat. 

 

“I was a bitch to Tough.” she managed to say. “I stole his ball thingy and threw it into the forest.”

 

_ Because I wanted to control everything, I wanted to be in History books like Harry  _ bloody _ Potter.  _

 

“Thank you for your honesty, Miss Golechâstel.” Professor Zephrah said, her hand softly resting on Beau’s wrist. 

 

She smiled and the young girl suddenly felt more at ease, as if a weight had been lifted from her heart.

 

“And you, Mr Tough?” De Rolo said, his eyes shining behind his spectacles. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

Tough didn’t look very well. His complexion was less green now that they were inside, but his hands were still toying with the strange little ball. He looked calmer, though, more composed than when they were flying over the forest. 

 

“I lost my composure when Beau stole my Remembrall. It won’t happen again.”

 

A Remembrall? Weren't those made of glass? Beauregard thought.

 

The little ball, opaque, green and grey, feeling somewhat wet in her hands, had not been a Remembrall, she was certain of it. The feeling of it had reminded her of seashells and the rocks battered by the sea by her grandfather's home. 

 

But when the Slytherin boy's hands appeared above the table, Beau was surprised to see the familiar smoky glass of a Remembrall, just like Fjord said.

 

“It is strange.” Headmaster De Rolo said. “Did you buy this in Diagon Alley with your furnitures?” 

 

“Yes. The clerk was kind enough to answer my questions and told me it would help me remember when I forgot things, sir. I'm sorry I went behind your back for that…”

 

“It's nothing.” De Rolo interrupted. “Well, now that both students confessed and look to be contrite enough, how about a formal apology to each other and to their teacher?”

 

“I am deeply sorry to have disobeyed you, Professor Vessar. It will not happen again.” Fjord immediately said. 

 

The stares came back on Beau.

 

“M’sorry.”

 

“Better than this.” Grog said behind her.

 

“Sorry I stole your sh… thing.”

 

“Aaaaand?” Professor Vessar drawled, her tone quite menacing.

 

“And I'll behave in class.” Beau sighed at last. 

 

Come on, she had already admitted fault, why apologise.

 

“Thank you, Mr Tough, Miss Golechâstel.” Professor De Rolo said. “Your behaviour was not up to Hogwarts Standards and quite dangerous. However, you seem to have seen the errors of your ways and thus will only lose a hundred points to both of your Houses. Does that sound alright, dear Keyleth?”

 

Beau’s stomach went freefalling.

 

A hundred points. At the end of the first week. Everyone was going to hate her for the remainder of the school year.

 

“Oh certainly.” Professor Zephrah added. “To make the punishment fit the exact infraction, I feel we should also add something else. Detentions, maybe?”

 

“Yes. I am terribly busy, though, do you mind if they both serve them with you? If you have something else, though...”

 

“No, it's alright. Though I would ask for your help around March, so I can take care of greenhouse number nine.”

 

“Certainly. We can't have First Years around the Nine.”

 

“What's in Greenhouse Nine?” Tough asked.

 

“If you are so curious, why not join us in six years for the NEWT level Herbology class?” the Herbology teacher said, a big smile on her lips.

 

The two students were escorted back to the castle by Professor Zephrah and De Rolo as Professor Vessar went to release the rest of their class, her broom becoming a small point in the distance. Beau didn't want to wait in the Common Room. Already, there were stares. Weird stares. So she climbed to the First Year’s girls dorm and closed the red curtains around her bed, trying to keep her tears discreet, private, quiet. 

 

She heard the pitter patter of her fellow classmates later.

 

“Beauregard?” Jester singsonged as the other girls seemingly changed their robes into pajamas. “Are you here? Because Bryce asked if you were alright and that if you wanted to eat, they brought up some pie for you.”

 

“No thanks, m’not hungry.”

 

“They also said you were lucky not to be expelled.”

 

Beauregard didn't answer. Another girl scoffed. Probably Weasley. What a bitch. 

Jester ended up going to bed and Wesley stopped wondering out loud about “ _ who exactly cost us a hundred points? I am certain this isn’t someone in this dorm. _ ” Freaking strawberry blonde beauty would be making her life here an absolute nightmare from now on, she knew. 

  
Silence blanketed the dorm soon enough and Beau dreamt of a giant seashell eating her, blue ropes shackling her and the unbearable nagging of the Weasley girl.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me before episode 18: we need a filler chapter before we go back to Caleb.   
> Me after episode 18: I CANT WAIT TO BE FINISHED WITH THAT FLUFF! MORE ANGST FOR THE ANGST GOD, LIAM O'BRIEN

Nott's proudest moment was being chosen to become the Slytherin's Quidditch team's new Seeker despite the ban on First Years playing.

 

It started with students talking about, as that Muggleborn put it,her  “skateboard trick”. Then it became a top secret nighttime test on a school broom under the surveillance of Professors Vessar and De Rolo, then using her Head of House's own broom, a very aggressive Beater broom. She had been quite proud to make it respond to the slightest caress, the tiniest of prodding, despite its powerful accelerations and overly dramatic brakes. 

 

None of the Goblin side of the family saw the appeal, but Nott’s mother had provided an interim broom during this first year. She had accompanied it with a lengthy letter about how she was happy she was integrated to the Wizards’ community after her disastrous introduction to Goblin Society. Nott was glad too. 

 

Not everyone was happy with the development. First, she was a Slytherin, so every other House had been saddened to see that a promising talent was rising in the Green team, of course.

 

Yes: Golechâstel had looked extra grumpy. But the Slytherin girl had been surprised when Tealeaf congratulated her before the first match when they were about to enter Herbology class. 

 

Well, maybe he wasn't that bad, she thought. 

 

Fjord helped her build confidence as well. So did Septimus Flint, the team's captain. Both helped her hold herself with a bit more confidence on her way to and from the Quidditch pitch. It was important to keep the House Morale up and that of the other houses low.

 

But she was still Nott. At least, Caleb understood how, ironically, she shied from the public eye. In June, all the school knew she was the first direct offspring of a Wizard and a Goblin to be accepted in Hogwarts. It was all over the Daily Prophet anyway. Her Slytherin brethren, had started looking at her in her odd way when the news broke over new year. 

But Fjord, Caleb, Astrid and Eodwulf, the other First Year Slytherins, had been very protective of her. Caleb and her had kept on studying together. Caleb even taught her something he learned in his Durmstrang class that he knew wouldn't exactly be taught.

 

“It's a Curse. That's why it's not taught. I read that Durmstrang really teaches everything compared to Hogwarts.”

 

“So there's some kind of censure?” Nott asked.

 

“I think so.” Caleb said, looking a bit frustrated. “In the last year of study, Durmstrang students can take an elective… It's called Dark Arts.”

 

“Not Defense?”

 

“Well, I think it helps with Defense, but, that's not the name of the class.” Caleb answered, lowering his voice.

 

Nott nodded. How one could defend themselves if they didn't know what the enemy was?

 

She had Quidditch as well. She loved having her Housemates, particularly Caleb and Fjord, cheer on her with giant banners with NOTT THE BRAVE spelled in giant letters that changed colours over time, a charm Astrid was very good at. 

 

This was the finals. She had to perform. Good thing she had better eyes than Regulus Knoll, the current Gryffindor Keeper. He kept letting the Slytherin Chasers score. 

 

She didn't dare do any acrobatics because their Seeker was a big boy, a Fifth Year named Gunther, and she was scared that with his faster broom, he'd try to make her fall from hers.

 

And sure it happened a couple of times, but only in a way that didn't give Slytherin the opportunity to land penalty shots. After the third impact, Nott started to worry. It was the fifth time the Golden Snitch escaped their grasp and the Gryffindor Chasers had started to make up for their Keeper’s failings, making the score quite a tight thing. 

 

She had to get the Snitch, this time, she thought as she saw it glimmer for the fourth time. So she flew in the opposite direction of it. Sure thing, a Bludger was sent her way, a second one, all expertly dodged. She sneered as she heard the wind woosh to her left. Gunther’s big frame was catching up with her. Hugging the crowd, close, so close to their noses, she couldn’t hear the commentary anymore, focused on timing, on watching straight ahead. They had taken the bait, now she had to keep the bluff going long enough. Right before the bigger student hit her, she took a deep breath and let herself slip, her fingernails leaving a scratch on the wood of her broom’s handle. Gunther crashed into bleachers full of Hufflepuff students and Nott giggled before she saw her broom, hovering still where she had left it as the wind whistled against her ears.

 

_ Come to me, dammit. _

 

The fall felt like it lasted forever, but soon enough, the broom had caught up with her and so did half the Slytherin Quidditch team and even a Gryffindor Beater. 

 

The Snitch should still be there, it should still be.

 

This broom could never be fast enough, she thought as she lied on it, offering the least purchase and zooming past her teammates.

It was there, waiting for me, she thought as she touched it the tip of her fingers closing in on the metal, warmed by the June sun. 

 

“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! IT WAS A RUSE! BUTTONSMITH LET HERSELF FALL TO WARD OFF GUNTHER’S BLOCK AND GO BACK TO THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS with 290 POINTS! SLYTHERIN WINS THE QUIDDITCH HOUSECUP!”

 

The cheers were deafening. The Slytherin team swarmed her and soon, Flint was giving her a piggy back ride.

 

The Common Room was packed. Headmaster De Rolo briefly came to confiscate the alcohol the Seventh Year had snuck in, but he had come with Butterbeer and a wink to replace it as well as delicious food.

 

It felt even better than the Halloween Feast and the Christmas Dinner at school because it was her victory. Her team's victory. She thought as Caleb hugged her one more time, a huge smile on his face.

 

She had to invite him during the holidays, she thought. And Fjord, and Astrid and Eodwulf. And she would also send an owl to all the Quidditch team.

 

Mother would be glad to see that Nott had friends.


	6. Chapter 6

Caleb was not really sure his parents were happy. In fact, when they had Christmas Dinner during the Holidays, they could only speak of Nott. They asked him many questions about her.

 

“She is nice. We study together. She knows a lot of Charms and this is my weak subject so I share my advanced knowledge of Transfiguration with her in exchange.” 

 

“Charms, right.” Uma said with a the smile one would make when they ate a lemon. 

 

Caleb sighed. He had forgiven his parents for the change of countries, the change of schools, but if they decided to pull him out, it wouldn't look good in the Ministry, even if homeschooling was legal and often practiced all over the globe still.

 

But Caleb didn't want this sacrifice, this transfer, to be for naught. So he looked at his parents with an eyebrow raised and kept on reading Nott's letter. Her Christmas Gift was a book on  _ Useful Charms Muggles Will Never Notice (Number Nine Will Shock You) _ . Caleb was really happy he had sent her a book on  _ Famous Animagi Around The World _ as well as her favourite sweets. 

 

Yes, it made sense that a witch with Goblin heritage would be gifted with charms. She probably practiced them since she was a small child with her parents. Maybe she knew Goblin enchantments? Caleb didn’t dare ask. Goblins had their secrets. 

 

It also felt very unfair to be friends with Nott only to get those secrets. This was why he helped with Transfiguration. At the end of the year, she had been extremely proud to finally get the match to needle spell at the end of year exam. Caleb had also been very proud of his own tutoring. 

 

Caleb did not regret his choice one bit. He loved studying with Nott. Fjord was nice and had more than made up for the point loss by studying extra hard and winning even more points when he successfully defined the Patronus Charm, a very high level spell, to Professor Dairon in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Nothing had come out of his wand when the teacher had dared him to cast it, but he still won fifty points for that. 

 

Astrid and Eodwulf, the other Slytherin First Year, had been respectively very good at Potions and very knowledgeable in Astronomy. In fact, Caleb loved to hear Eodwulf talk about the stars. So much that sometimes, Nott and Astrid would giggle and throw him off of his concentration, confusing the two boys. 

 

They had shrugged and kept on doing their Astronomy homework, speaking softly, finding pleasure in the scratching of quills and the smell of parchment.

 

All in all, it was a good year, he thought as he kept on scribbling his letters to his friends. Nott and Eodwulf both earned a very long one. To Nott, he could talk of everything, but Eodwulf was harder. He struggled a bit and decided to let himself go and simply write about that Transfiguration spell he learned over the summer. The one who only worked on a particular coincidence of planetary alignment: Mars casting a shadow on Earth. 

 

“It's impossible!” Caleb had blurted out in the middle of the meal.

 

Leofred Widogast had looked at his son with a worried glance and Uma had immediately summoned the next course, but their guest did not look offended. In fact, he looked amused. 

 

His balding head and jaundiced complexion were augmented by long teeth in need of a good Straightening Charm as he smiled.

 

“It is indeed impossible for Mars to cast a shadow on Earth unless another light source than the Sun brings lights from elsewhere. Now, think, little boy…” the man had asked, staring intently at Caleb, his eyes seemingly searching. 

 

But Caleb had no idea. He thought it over and over and he didn’t fiund out before Mr Ikithon, the Minister of Wizarding and Magical Culture, had stopped watching him. Uma changed the subject, asking if he didn't miss Magical Law Enforcement and being an Auror. 

 

Caleb had listened, enraptured. The adventures this man lived were slightly dark, and the young boy suspected the older man to be toning them down, but to think that he had once protected wizards and witches from dark mages was fascinating. Maybe Caleb would look into that career. 

 

“But I don't exactly regret it. Helping promote books, draw the basis of magical knowledge for all witches and wizards, even those who can't afford a Hogwarts education, is an excellent calling and maybe I can impart some wisdom rather than dealing death in my twilight years.”

 

“Oh, but you are very far from it, Mr Ikithon.” Uma had assured him with a smile.

 

Caleb’s own had dimmed when the door closed on the man.

 

This was happening all over again. The Widogast given a few scraps to make them feel like they were elevating themselves. Caleb didn't expect anything from Trent Ikithon. He would forget about the boy, he thought as he furiously scribbled his letter to Eodwulf.

 

Eodwulf. Astronomy. 

 

Caleb, his breathing ragged, drew another piece of parchment and hastily scribbled another letter, one he attached to the leg of his father’s old owl. 

 

“Schnell! Schnell!” Caleb intimated, his smile splitting his face in two as the aging animal flew out, slowly getting out of sight. 

Frumpkin, his new kitten, came purring between his legs. 

 

“I got it.” Caleb said, picking up his tabby. “I know how Mars can cast a shadow on Earth!” 

 

He stared at the animal’s eyes and suddenly, the boy’s own blue eyes glazed over. If one had looked into the tiny garden of the Widogast family, they’d have noticed a young wizard’s pupils tightening, elongating for a second. 

 

With a sigh, Caleb let his kitten go. Maybe one day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The God of Angst is pleased.   
> Now, to the God of Sexy Comic Relief, we feed fruit.


	7. Chapter 7

Mollymauk didn’t know what electives to take. 

 

This second year had been eventful. Golechâstel had made it into the Quidditch team at last, as well as Fleur Weasley. It made the Gryffindor Common Room an  _ interesting _ place, so, on this day of Quidditch practice, he had left Jester and her Twittering Toffee Popcorn behind, as well as Portabilius Potter’s constant gloomy face and confidently strode past the Fat Lady finding himself naturally wandering outside of the castle.

 

The sun was shining bright and the wind had not been seen since the end of the Easter break, making the air heavy and more and more sweltering as he got closer to the lake. 

 

This year, he had spent a lot of time by the Lake with Yasha and Jester. Beauregard had often tagged along, often because, aside from Jester, most of the other Second Years disliked her. Because last year’s detention hadn't been enough, it seemed Professor Dairon had given her a couple of months worth of those, this year after she gave Caleb Widogast a black eye rather than simply not rising to what was obviously a snide comment, and not one that was very insulting at that.

 

Molly didn't really know what to think of Caleb right now. Ever since the girls had joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he and the other Slytherin Second Year  eyed their Red and Gold counterparts weirdly. Maybe because they felt the recent Quidditch team additions were a threat to Nott Buttonsmith? It had culminated before Halloween into a very impressive display of Slytherin solidarity, during that Defense Against the Dark Arts class where Beau had put her Quidditch Glasses on. 

 

All of them, even Nott, had their wands trained on the Gryffindor Chaser and only Caleb’s raised hand had Fjord nod and gesture to the others. The professor, bewildered, had dismissed the whole class and punished Beau for  _ Muggle Dueling _ , letting the Slytherins go scot free. She had a particularly murderous stare for Beauregard, though and she had to stay after class to learn how many points she lost and how many months worth of detention she was going to serve.

 

“Sometimes, people do need a punch. What did Caleb say?” Yasha had asked when Molly told her the full story after learning of it through castle gossip.

 

“That Beau didn't have any friends and she looked like a nerd with her glasses on.” 

 

Yasha laughed. 

 

“Truth hurts. Want to visit Grog?”

 

Yasha was always with Grog, listening to him talk about his job. And yet, she had more friends in her own house than Beauregard had in Gryffindor. 

 

Molly went to Grog’s teas (the giant man’s own cup reeking of whiskey) about twice a month, essentially to catch up with Yasha. He wanted to grill her about her choices of electives, but on a Monday, she would not be at Grog’s, she would be in her Common Room, certainly.

 

Caleb, Caleb, Caleb Widogast. The young Gryffindor sighed. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about him?

 

“Tealeaf?” A voice asked behind him. 

 

He turned around. 

 

It was Caleb. His cat was rolled around his neck like a scarf and he was smiling, an easy going smile.

 

“Caleb Widogast! Didn't I tell you back in the train? It's Molly for my friends.” Molly exclaimed, plastering a smile on his face, trying to look like he hadn’t been thinking of the other boy before he was called. 

 

Caleb’s smile grew wider.

 

“Oh, I don't know what I did to deserve it.” He said. “The weather is so good, I thought I would read by the lake.” The Slytherin boy exclaimed, looking like joy itself.

 

Smoothly, Caleb walked toward a tree at the very edge of the waters and sat down, his legs casually crossed. He patted down the space near him with a wide smile and Molly was suddenly reminded of that smile he gave Nott, on their first Hogwarts Express ride.

 

His heart skipped a beat, but he sat down anyway. 

 

“What are you reading!” He asked.

 

“I think it's the Sixth Year Transfiguration manual.” Caleb said. “It has a few passages on Human Transfiguration I can't wait to practice, but Professor Pumat Sol doesn't even want to answer my questions about it yet.”

 

“Well, you must be frustrated.” Molly said. “Didn’t you have to change schools to come to Hogwarts?”

 

“Yes. It was so annoying.” Caleb whined. “Mostly learning English. I had only started to understand the Charms professor at Durmstrang. She was Russian and refused to speak anything else, so we all relied on the notes of older students about it. Copied down for ten years and amended when she tweaked the curriculum and a Russian student would not be too bored to listen to her boring class...”

 

“I am very happy to be in Hogwarts, suddenly, where the only thing we have to worry about is Professor Gilmore's theatrics.” Molly added.

 

Moving his arms and shaking his long, dark hair in an impersonation of the man, he deepened his voice and made it sultry.

 

“ _ Hello, and welcome to a class where your  _ Charms  _ will win you the best grades! _ ” 

 

Caleb’s eyes widened and his mouth stretched as he coughed heavily before his laughter won over his whole body. Contagious, the hilarity gained Molly and the two boys were wheezing.

 

“Well, sometimes, we do get startled when one of the Pumats gets behind you all  _ don't forget to concentrate on the image of the target form, little boy. _ ” Caleb sputtered, trying to imitate Professor Pumat Sol’s vocal mannerism. 

 

However, as he tried to do so, his German accent came back in force, making Molly further dive into hilarity and so did his Slytherin friend.

 

“Well, Professor Punat Sol is quite unique, right.” A voice behind them said.

 

It was Fjord Tough. Molly managed to calm down for a second but Caleb had planned otherwise.

 

“Well, we can't say he is one of a kind.” He smiled.

 

“Oh, Merlin!” Molly shouted in between peals of laughter.

 

“I thought I was going to get you, but this looks too fun and Kara, Astrid and Nott are arguing about the Goblin Stance on Witch Hunters Trials again.” Fjord, the hilarity passed. 

 

“Is she alright?” Caleb asked.

 

“Yeah, it's purely academic, no real fight, just History nerds with an accurate source of information that isn't a ghost.” Fjord dismissed as he juggled with his Remembrall, which was a bright red. “Were you guys talking about class? I'm having trouble with picking a second elective. Thought I'd run it through popular consultation.”

 

Molly felt his stomach squeeze. He still hadn’t chosen any, had he?

 

“Do we have to take one?” He asked.

 

“I don't think so.” Caleb said. “But some jobs require at least an OWL level in some elective disciplines. All Transfiguration, Potion and Healing as well as Astronomy and Divination related jobs require Arithmancy. Which is why it's my first choice.”

 

“Well,” Fjord drawled. “I'm taking Care for Magical Creatures. I am really intrigued by Merpeople. Did you know there was a whole village of them in the Lake?”

 

“Really?” Molly asked. “Did you know from your swim in First Year?” 

 

Fjord chuckled. 

 

“Naaah… I read about Merpeople in a book Caleb left in the Common Room and I asked Professor Vessar about it.” 

 

“So you have the  _ Differences Between Magical Creatures and Magical Peoples _ book?” Caleb said. “It really helped me figure out if I actually wanted to take up the subject.”

 

“Have you decided yet?” Molly asked. 

 

“Yes. I’m taking Care For Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Divination, Muggle Studies and Study of Ancient Runes.” Caleb recited, his confident half smile not faltering once as Fjord and Mollymauk’s faces gradually fell during the enumeration. 

 

“That’s… That’s a lot, Caleb.” Fjord asked, hesitant. 

 

“I’ve worked it out with Professor De Rolo.” the red haired boy answered, looking like the epitome of seriousness. “It’s all good.”

 

“Are you sure?” Molly protested, dumbstruck. “Wouldn’t there be an overlap in classes?” 

 

“As I said, Professor De Rolo already received my list and said that with my results, there would be no problem with me attending all of my classes.” Caleb told them on a tone suggesting he was done with questioning. “And you, Mollymauk, have you chosen antelectives?”

 

“I'm actually quite envious. Of both of you.” Molly confessed. “At least Fjord has one.”

 

“Didn't the Prefects set up career advice leaflets in the Gryffindor Common Room?” Fjord asked. “Because that helped. I still don’t know if I want to be a Curse Breaker or work with the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures, but at least it makes me hesitate between Divination and Study of Ancient Runes for a second class.”

 

“Jester says Divination is  _ like, super awesome _ !” Molly laughed. 

 

“ _ Super awesome. _ ” Caleb repeated, actually nailing this one, extending his arms and hands in a typical Jester way. 

 

“This one was way better than your Pumat Sol.” Molly told him.

 

“Well, her accent sounds like my old Astronomy teacher, the Slovak one.”

 

Molly nodded. 

 

“Ach! I wish I got to meet more than British and Irish people, like you did.” he sighed. “Travel around and see another country.”

 

“My parents both work in the Department for International Cooperation.” Caleb explained. “My mother specialises in Trade Agreements and my father in International Wand Regulations. We moved here because the German Ministry of Magic and the British Ministry have a problem with cauldron sizes and thicknesses regulations and they sent my mum to take care of it. It’s unusual though. If you want to travel, I’d say Curse Breaking will be your best shot. Apparently, you can even go to places Gringott’s have a branch.”

 

“That’s a lot of countries.” Fjord said before he yawned and stretched. “The weather is so nice, but I guess I’m going to see if Professor De Rolo can take my application. I think I made my choice. Have a nice afternoon.”

 

“See you later.” Caleb said.

 

“Bye!” Molly said, feeling somehow relieved to see the other dark haired boy go. 

 

It was weird, though. Fjord was a nice guy. He had this green tinge to his face that made him look sickly and he postured a lot, but he was also fair and was never known to partake in House rivalry unless his friends from his year were attacked about it. 

 

Caleb’s stare became insistant and the Gryffindor boy suddenly felt like he should speak again. 

 

“The only thing I’m certain, is, I don’t want to take Muggle Studies, because I’ve grown up in the Muggle world.” Molly explained. “But the rest… There is so many.”

 

“Do you want to travel?” Caleb asked, his voice almost a murmur. “Would you want to travel to… Maybe, Germany, for example?” 

 

His blue eyes were hard to read and Molly hoped his cheeks weren’t too red. 

 

“That would actually be nice. Would you show me things?” Molly asked, suddenly short on breath. 

 

“Yes. I’d like to do so very much.” Caleb said, his lips moving really quick, as if he couldn’t say the words fast enough.

 

“Then I’d be very happy to visit Germany.” 

 

Molly wanted to giggle and his smile seemed to be etched on his face like he'd been hexed, but the twinkle in Caleb's blue eyes and his slightly reddening cheeks were worth suffering through that strange urge to take a lock of his own hair and twirl it nervously.

 

Molly went to Professor Zephrah’s office the second morning.

 

“I'd like to take Divination, Arithmancy and Care for Magical Creatures, pretty please.”

 

Professor Zephrah’s huge smile as he explained his reasoning was more malicious than he had given her credit for.

 

“Are you sure this is what you want for yourself?” She asked again.

 

“Well… I'm sure now. But at least no door is closed.”

 

The Herbology teacher's smile grew fond.

 

“Yes, that's a very good idea.” Professor Zephrah exclaimed, delighted as she signed Mollymauk’s choice of classes into her list. 

 

He shook hands with his head of house and made his way back to the Common Room. Damn, he hoped Weasley and Golechâstel didn't make it explode!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I was a very gay kid and I make gay kids being gay to make up for my terribly straight childhood environment.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to say I'm sorry to every people I have told that Caleb and Ikithon would not interact before Caleb was of age.  
> There is no physical interaction and I'll try to keep it that way until Caleb is of age in the Wizarding World (17 years old)

Caleb was surrounded with piles of darkened parchment. He would have to ask his mother about erasing them so he could start over. These letters were hard.

 

Actually, with Nott, it wasn't the letter part that was hard but rather his parent's consent, grudgingly given once Caleb recited all of her excellent grades and Quidditch prowess. He had two other friends to invite and he knew exactly who, but he struggled to find the words. 

 

If he had to try and put words on what Eodwulf and he felt, it would be close to the soul mates experience. Caleb wanted to talk to Eodwulf all day and night and the separation at the end of the year, especially knowing that Caleb would be sorely lacking in time during the next one, was heartbreaking. 

 

The last day of school, they had snuck into the Astronomy Tower, Eodwulf had insisted because it was the moment of the year Jupiter was the most visible and the skies were clear.

 

Caleb’s heart had raced when Eodwulf’s hand had brushed his own and ever so slowly, his fingers had intertwined with his.

 

So Caleb wanted to invite Eodwulf to his dead grandparents old home in Germany.

 

That was the opposite of romantic, he had decided, chucking the now heavily crossed-out parchment sheet behind his shoulder and retrieving another. 

 

And then there was Molly.

 

It was awkward because, everything Molly did in Caleb's presence was reminiscent of how Eodwulf looked at and itched to touch Caleb, but Molly was mostly funny and their discussions weren't very academic. They had also never broken curfew together.

But Molly was… Aesthetically pleasing. Even more so than Eodwulf. Also he wasn’t mean at all, in fact he was very curious to know more, especially about Caleb. In fact, of all the Gryffindor students, Mollymauk was the nicest and the one Caleb had talked to the most during the year. He was not rude like Golechâstel or rude like Weasley, he was not a prankster like Jester Lavorre or someone who thought themselves as too righteous to speak with  _ Slutherins _ , whatever that O’Brien older fellow meant by that. Gryffindors were weird.

 

Still, Caleb hoped that maybe it would help to invite both boys over. Maybe he would be able to choose then. 

 

And then what, he thought?

 

What did it mean to chose? Did it mean having a boyfriend? Did it mean spending time with them in the Astronomy tower after hours to hold hands? Did it mean sitting by the lake, reading books, impersonating teachers and talking about what life had in store for them?

 

Caleb, his wrist aching, put some finishing touches to his draft to Eodwulf. 

 

Yes, this one would do. Now there was only Mollymauk left. 

 

Caleb kept it factual at first. Factual was good. Factual was a good basis. He was not really sure about Molly. If he had to explain it, he couldn’t really. There was something in his eyes, in his smile, his plump lips that made him want to…

 

Caleb took a deep breath and scribbled all over the text, only to start it all over again. 

 

_ My dear Mollymauk,  _

 

_ Do pardon me if I use your full name. I like your full name. It sounds so nice, when I say it, I feel like I can taste the sun and feel the spring in your step when you walk.  _

 

_ It was nice to finally have a longer conversation with you, by the lake and I haven't forgotten what we've said. I would like to invite all of my friends to see my home. Even if the building in itself is not, I will be in my country for the first time in over two years and I wanted to share it with my dearest friends. I am not ashamed to say that you are one, no matter House Pride. _

 

_ I'm certain you're going to love the fields. Nott will be teaching me some of her broom tricks and Eodwulf and I planned a lot of stargazing, but I just know that you're going to like the open air and the sun and maybe we can even get to walk the path to the mountains. Since you are raised Muggle, my parents may allow us to go on walks there. I was never allowed before because whenever we visited my grandparents, usually in summer, there were a lot of Muggles and my parents worried I would get lost or break the Status of Secrecy trying to ask my way to Zauberstraße. Or get eaten by a Goblin. Which Nott reassured me was not a thing she has ever heard being done... _

 

Caleb stopped writing.

 

What in the flying fuck was he writing?

 

He wanted to burn the parchment. In fact, his father had told him he could, even if he was trusted to respect British rules restricting underage use of magic outside of school. 

 

The words scared him. Heck, the length of the missive he had penned with hardly an inkblot or struck down misspelling scared him. In comparison, his letter for Eodwulf had taken the care and craftsmanship of a wordwright. 

 

It felt like the opposite of romantic, what he wrote Molly. But it seemed to have its moments, as if Caleb had truly spoken his mind and bared his soul.

 

But it also had bashful digressions until it ended with that awful Goblin eating children line. 

 

Caleb wondered if it would make Molly laugh? Another thing he thought was weird, but nice in a way, was that, even when he wasn't actively trying to be funny, Mollymauk Tealeaf seemed to think Caleb was absolutely hilarious. 

 

It felt good to be lauded for something that had nothing to do with his academic achievements.

 

_ Oh, Mr Ikithon says you are very talented, possibly the brightest wizard of your age. _

 

_ We heard that you won your house a total of five hundred points total since you're here, professor De Rolo says he is extremely proud to call you a student of Hogwarts in general and even more so to share your house.  _

 

_ So much that you can take any elective you want, we will work so you can attend them all. _

 

It was scary, but the pride obfuscated the worst of it.

 

He wished he could at least tell Nott he would be using a Time-Turner. They were joined at the hip, unless Nott was on a broom, so she would have to figure it out on her own, he guessed. She had to, she was too clever not to. In fact, Caleb thought Nott was the brightest witch, not him. He was simply someone who read too many books while he had to retake a year. 

 

Come to think of it, he would reach his majority right in the middle of Fifth Year. What if he tried to get his NEWT exams the year after his OWLs? 

 

And maybe miss out on nice memories with Nott, Eodwulf, Mollymauk, Astrid… Even Velora Vessar and Kree Sanguinar in Ravenclaw and Shakaste, the Slytherin Sixth Year Prefect who had been so helpful in helping him figure out English slang.

 

All of these people. This castle. Caleb was suddenly scared of what would happen at the end of the Seventh Year. He sighed.

 

Looking one last time at the missive he was to send Mollymauk, Caleb smiled and added an “I can't wait to hear your answer” as well as his carefully penned signature before rolling each sheet of parchment and attaching it on his brand new owl’s leg. 

 

Mr Ikithon had gifted it to Caleb when he heard about  _ “an exceptional student granted the right to use a Time-Turner” _ . Uma and Leofred had been delighted to hear that Caleb and Mr Ikithon had been  _ corresponding _ , as they said. So far, Caleb had only sent his father's owl with the answer to the riddle he has given out that Christmas and received a short note saying this was the correct answer and then nothing. It seemed both Caleb and the Head of the Department of MC had been content with that. 

 

The owl was a bit of a bigger gesture, but one that his parents felt was innocent enough to keep and didn't warrant more than a thank you note Caleb was happy to write. 

 

Still, to have known that Caleb had gotten a Time-Turner must have meant Mr Ikithon had contacts in the Department of Mysteries. Maybe he knew Mr Vessar, the Unspeakable who had interviewed Caleb in Professor De Rolo’s office on the very last school day. Maybe this was not sensitive information for it to be known by other adults, especially high ranking ones. The Widogasts knew as well, after all. 

 

Caleb finished attaching the last letter to the owl. The animal squeaked. 

 

“Right, right. I'm almost done. I'm giving you a treat because I don't know if you will have to look for Mollymauk for a long time before locating the circus.” 

 

With four full Yummy Owlies treats, so was Faustus flying. Caleb felt his heart pound harder than it should. 

 

He hoped they would say yes. 


	9. Chapter 9

Molly pleaded and begged and promised to work for the Circus during the rest of the summer and even come back during school break to work a bit more. Even before Caleb’s letter came, he had warned Gustav and asked him politely, finding all the documents he could to support the fact that he would be safe and it would be legal. 

 

However, Gustav wanted to hear nothing of it and Molly did not want to send a letter saying no. 

 

He couldn't pass this opportunity to spend time with Caleb, to try and figure out what these feelings were leading him. Because yes, they were feelings, he thought as he scribbled on his Summer Potions homework, angrily.

 

Describing them was hard, he just felt some  _ stirrings  _ around Caleb. They could be awkward ones. Especially when they made him try to stay silent, at night, in his bunk, so different from his Hogwarts’ bed, conjuring totally unsatisfying images and having to always have paper tissues on hand. 

 

Molly wasn't dumb. He knew what he was feeling (and doing) was normal. The Circus had made sure of it and had driven the point home this summer, since, apparently, he had grown up a bit during the year, prompting a shopping trip for new clothes and an awkward birds and bees talk.

 

_ They seemed to think I've turned into a giant while I was at school. _

 

He wanted to know if Caleb had noticed that. If Caleb had noticed the growing patch on his chin throughout the year. However, that would require sneaking out to see him. Maybe tell him in person that he was forbidden from overseas travel outside of the Circus. 

 

He had an idea during their London stay. He sent an owl, telling Caleb of when Yasha and him were entrusted with their Gringott vault keys and the strict instructions to come back to their mobile home at seven, sharp. 

 

The Slytherin boy beamed as he skipped toward Mollymauk and extended his hand to shake.

 

“Hello Molly!” Caleb exclaimed. “I'm really happy to see you.”

 

Molly’s goofy smile would not end and he felt anxious at the idea of announcing this to Caleb.

 

So he changed the subject, offering an ice cream to Caleb. Yasha winked at Molly and disappeared towards the broom shop, pretexting wanting to try out for Hufflepuff’s team. 

 

“My parents say we can go back this year, Mother had a raise and she wants to celebrate it.” Caleb said. “There is still time before classes resume.”

 

“About that…” Molly,started to say, painfully. “I really want to go, I do. I just need to know... if I had to sneak out, meet you in the Leaky Cauldron and go with you to Germany… would it be alright to you? And your parents?” 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Molly sighed.

 

“Gustav said that he would sign my Hogsmeade permission slip or he would allow me to go to Germany with you.”

 

“Not both.” Caleb deadpanned.

 

“Not both…” Molly repeated.

 

Caleb’s beautiful face turned into one giant horrible frown, one that twisted Molly's stomach into knots.

 

“Would you and your parents be ok with me ditching the Circus?” Molly asked, more clearly.

 

Caleb’s eyes went wide with horror. Molly wondering what that meant, hid his own panic behind a painful smile.

 

“You… you can't go against the will of your guardian, Mollymauk!” Caleb managed to sputter. “What if Gustav forbids you to go to Hogsmeade anyway? What if something happens and my parents are held responsible?” 

 

The red on Caleb's face was spreading.

 

Molly’s own face fell somewhere near his stomach.

 

“I'm… I'm sorry I asked. You're right, it's stupid. And irresponsible.”

 

He turned his gaze away, eating his lime and raspberry ice cream.

 

“Mollymauk.” Caleb called, his voice suddenly more even, less shrill. Pretty low, in fact. It gave Mollymauk's inexplicable goosebumps to hear it. He liked it when Caleb used his full name.

 

“Would you have sneaked out without asking me?” He asked. 

 

“No.” Molly answered. “Because I sort of expected you might not want to break the rules.”

 

“Did you expected me to say yes?”

 

“Well, not expected, really. More hoped.”

 

Caleb’s head made some sort of movement the Gryffindor boy caught from the corner of the eye. 

 

“Thank you for asking me. For considering my opinion on this.” Caleb told Molly.

 

There was something in Caleb’s voice that had some sort of bitter finality in it. 

 

Still, Caleb finished his caramel apple ice cream and started to make small talk as Molly hadn’t finished his. It felt empty to Molly. Homework. Anticipation. Preparation. This suddenly sounded extremely boring, aside from the Arithmancy part. 

 

Mollymauk was actually quite interested by Arithmancy, but the manual he had bought had been so dry, he had to reread the first few pages a couple of times before getting the gist of it. But he was here with Caleb, now, awkwardly eating an ice cream that had turned into ashes on his tongue. 

 

“Have you read the Arithmancy manual, yet?” Molly chanced.

 

“Yes and it is terribly written!” Caleb explained. “Arithmancy is actually a mandatory class in Durmstrang, I was looking forward to taking it again, but our manuals are better than this.”

 

“What's different with the Durmstrang manual?” Molly asked. 

 

“Well, it's written in Finnish by Mestari Numerologinen, the greatest mind when it comes to Arithmancy and Numerology and the best at vulgarisation. She has columns in about every Magical Theory and Advanced Charms publication in the world and she personally translated her book into twelve languages with a spell of her creation. Every proofreader was floored and registered a margin of error of less than two percent, consistent in every language aside from Xhosa and French which had a five percent one.”

 

“She sounds amazing!” Molly said, a smile going back to his face. “I am more interested in the Divination aspects of Arithmancy, but creating spells? For translation! It's so cool!”

 

“I know, right!” Caleb added, sounding excited. “I wish to create my own spells someday. Actually I…”

 

Caleb abruptly stopped, trying to catch himself. Molly wanted to know more. The spark was back. They had something in common now, more than just being in the same school. 

 

“I… I was going to tell you in Germany… I guess, that's not an option anymore.” Caleb sighed. 

 

“Can't you tell me now?” Molly asked. 

 

Caleb looked left and right. They were in a far corner of the little shop, one just near the retister where no clerk attended to it. Two clients, young witches past Hogwarts’ age, shared a giant milk shake with flying chocolate chips while making gooey lovey dovey eyes at each other.

 

Molly promised himself that he wouldn't do that ever with anyone. It looked pretty stupid. He liked talking more.

 

While he was distracted, Caleb took Molly's hand.

 

The Gryffindor student bit down a gasp at the sudden touch, warm, leaving his wrist all tingly and his lips all dry, just like his mouth. He looked into Caleb in his beautiful blue eyes, drinking the two clear seas… 

 

Caleb’s pupils shifted and turned, the corners of his eyes shrank and a hint of red hair started to spread from his eyebrows, covering his shrinking eyelids.

 

This time, Molly didn't contain his shriek. Caleb returned to normal quickly enough.

 

“It's ok! Please calm down!”

 

“You, you… your eyes!”

 

“Yes! Please don't.. please, I beg of you! Be quiet about this.” Caleb all but gritted behind his teeth which gleamed and looked slightly pointier than they had any right to be and Molly had mixed feelings about this.

 

Molly calmed down. Caleb’s eyes had turned back to normal and not… whatever that was.

 

“I'm trying to turn into an Animagus!” Caleb whispered. “Also,” he added on a normal tone of voice. “you're crushing my hand.”

 

Molly let go of Caleb’s hand quickly and tried to school his voice. He took deep calming breaths to quiet his pounding heart.

 

“I have no clue what that is but… Oh, damn…” Molly stuttered.

 

“It means turning into an animal.” Caleb said. “It’s said to tell a lot about your personality. And it's a great feat of Human Transfiguration.”

 

“You love Transfiguration, so it makes sense.” Molly acquiesced, finally calming down as Caleb’s features returned to normal. “Why the secret?”

 

Caleb made a face again but this time, Molly knew it wasn’t his fault.

 

“You have to register your exact form with the Ministry.” He whispered again. “Down to the slightest detail. I'm… I'm telling this to you because… well, you wanted to sneak away from home to come and see me. I hope it means you won't rat me out.” Caleb said quickly, his ears going red. 

 

Molly’s hand tingled still where Caleb had touched it.

 

“You were prepared to break the rules to see me. It makes me trust you. Makes me trust you'll keep my secret.”

 

Molly noticed that when he was nervous would also speak with the lightest German accent, if his reddening face wasn’t already a tell. 

 

“Of course!” Molly said. “Anything for you.”

 

All in all, Molly felt good for having talked to Caleb at least, despite the roller coaster of emotions it had been. He also did feel lighter at the idea that he wouldn't attempt to get away from home at night to go to  _ Germany _ . 

 

This night, when he dreamed, he replayed the best part of it.

 

_ Caleb trusts me. _


	10. Chapter 10

Beau was extremely worried. First, Hufflepuff, now having Yasha Kord as a strong Chaser, had beaten Gryffindor with a very comfortable margin. Meaning the Slytherin Team, if they beat Ravenclaw with a sufficient amount of points, could very well earn the Quidditch cup  _ again. _

  


Yasha was very cool, though. This year, Beau felt good. Her feud with Weasley had met an end when they realised they had lost trying to outperform the other instead of playing as a team. With Calianna, the bubbly Second Year, joining their team, they had given each other a look, shaken hands and resolved to mold Cali into a proper Quidditch player. Not just the only one who could stand on a broom. 

  


This year, they had lost O’Brien as a player because he wanted to focus on his OWLs before starting his own business in magical costumes and possibly apply to the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts in the Costumes and Apparel Class. A dangerous path, but a valid one.

  


They lost a captain and a strong Keeper and Potter, the older one, had been catapulted to captain position and decided to start tryouts.

  


They were awful. Beau hounded Molly, but he wasn't that interested in Quidditch. 

  


Molly liked watching but didn't feel like he would be that good on a broom. Additionally, he looked very melancholic or something this year. As if all of his confidence and peacock-likeness whatever had been drained out of him. She wondered if everything was alright at home. 

  


And Jester… Well. Beau would not risk giving her the idea. She would prank everyone and as much as Beau loved her, she just couldn't joke around Quidditch, she couldn't!

  


The worst was when professor Dairon announced that she was going to leave her position at Hogwarts at the end of the next school year. 

  


“NO!” Beauregard screamed. “You can’t! You’re the best teacher!”

  


Everyone looked at her weirdly. She guessed they were not wrong to do so. 

  


Professor Dairon was now the only person who still gave detention to Beau. It was mostly because Beau had a hard time following her orders, skipping ahead, trying to practice too hard in a classroom full of students who didn’t always want to practice the real thing. It was one thing to challenge Fjord Tough, Eodwulf Gustafsson and Caleb Widoghast. It was another thing to give Jester a hard time. Though Jester started it, what, throwing curses around!

  


Beau found that detention with professor Dairon was actually a calming time. The best place of learning. One where she would help wrangle beasts she used in class, learn more about them and read about dark curses while waiting for the teacher to arrive for the evening’s activities. 

  


In fact, Beau once snapped at Buttonsmith for something petty just because she wanted to finish one of these. She wasn’t much into books, but when they were about interesting jinxes and their application on the field, arranged in a very “post mission report” way, she just loved it. 

  


It made Defense Against the Dark Arts real, to realise there were Dark Arts. 

  


It was also why Beau only took Care for Magical Creature as a class. Mostly because Velora Vessar said they'd get to see a unicorn. Otherwise she'd had just tried to focus on the main classes she already had. She had sighed when she had seen in the pamphlets that the best Aurors had Optimal grades everywhere. 

  


Beau went to see Professor Dairon after the Defense class was done, Charms be damned. She couldn't believe she was leaving.

  


“Why?” Beau asked. “You're an excellent teacher.”

  


The teacher smiled, fondly. 

  


“I am pretty flattered that you think so.” The tall black skinned woman said. “After all, I have handed you about seventy percent of your total detention count.” 

  


“It doesn't matter! I'm just doing that because I don't like authority. You're still the best teacher this entire school has!”

  


“Still a grand praise! I like to think my colleagues do a good job.”

  


Beau shrugged. 

  


“I like how you teach the best.”

  


“Yes, that's why you disrupt the class everytime you set foot in it.” 

  


Beau was about to retort but she noticed the teacher's smirk. 

  


“You're taking the piss, right?”

  


The professor gave a curt laugh and sighed.

  


“A teacher with a great track record, someone with even greater capabilities than I, wants the job next year, when they settle their affairs. As a Hogwarts and a Slytherin alumni, they'll be able to help the school even better than I did. It will free Professor De Rolo from acting Head of House when he should be doing Headmaster things.” 

  


Beau’s frown deepened. 

  


“I also miss traveling. I have unfinished business in Denmark and Bieolorussia. I think the MACUSA also offered me a job, I didn’t open that letter yet.”

  


“You have people vying for you from all across Europe and all the way from the Americas and you can't stay at Hogwarts?” Beau all but snarled.

  


“Slytherin needs a Head of House who can take care of them, Miss Golechâstel.” Professor Dairon said. “If competence was the only factor, everyone would be on equal footing and many of my other rivals for the position would have had a better time getting it. I was never schooled at Hogwarts, you see?” 

  


“Were you homeschooled?” Beau asked.

  


“No. When I was eight years old, I had a dream. A beautiful woman with grey hair told me I was a witch and that I would find a stone in my hand upon waking up. It would be a map and a key to find my new school. Uagadou.” Dairon said, a smile softening her stark features. “My family was very proud. There hadn't been a magically gifted child born to the tribe in centuries.” 

  


Beau’s eyes were like saucers, wide, the white could be seen from the moon. She had trouble keeping her mouth open.

  


“Is it true what they say, that African wizards are the best at wandless magic?” Beau asked, too quickly. 

  


Professor Dairon chuckled. 

  


“Indeed. Wands are used, but, more like a Muggle would use a vacuum cleaner instead of a broom to sweep the dust away. It’s by no means necessary, but it’s useful to use your hands when you don’t want to wake up the whole neighbourhood.” 

  


Beau had no clue what a vacuum cleaner was but noddded nonetheless as if she did and sat down on the chair in front of her professor’s desk. Over the years, she had come to call it her chair. Her place. She was spending so much time there anyway. 

  


“Teach me.” she said, looking at her teacher straight in the eyes.

  


Professor Dairon frowned. 

  


“You don’t like my teaching in the classroom, so much that you rebel at every turn. Why would I teach you things that are not even in the NEWTs curriculum?”

  


“Because this isn’t in the curriculum. And you’re not imposing anything on me.” Beau shrugged. 

  


The bald woman stared strongly at Beauregard and Beau maintained the eye contact, feeling like it was piercing to the bottom of her very soul and welcoming it. She hoped one day, she would be able to do that. 

  


“All right. I will teach you.” Professor Dairon said, her eyes suddenly turning to her drawer. Slowly, from there, levitated parchment, quill and inks without the witch saying anything or even doing anything more than just turning her head and pointing her chin. 

  


Beau was happy, envious and ready to learn more as Dairon wrote her a note of excuse for being out after curfew. She thanked her teacher profusely and got out. She almost didn’t want to take advantage of the note in her hand, basically giving her an excuse to be out. However, she didn’t want to push her luck either, so it took one pained whimper to make her look to a corridor that didn’t lead to the Gryffindor Common Room, but rather to the Library. 

  


Just at the turn of the corridor, asleep with his neck awkwardly positioned on the sabaton of an armour, laid Caleb Widogast, looking like he was sleeping fitfully, whimpers escaping his dry and chapped lips. For a second, Beau wondered if he had died. His face looked ashen and underneath his eyes were deep dark grooves that ate at his face. He pretty much looked like a fresh Inferius. Beau didn’t know much about those, but she was certain that Inferi didn’t call for  _ mutter _ in their sleep and would in fact not sleep but rather chase the living to consume their flesh. They were also in Hogwarts, which meant that Widogast was definitely not an Inferius, since a school like this probably had tons of failsafes preventing Necromancy on grounds.

  


Beau knelt next to the redhead, touching his forehead which was hot and clammy. She should definitely bring him to the Hospital Wing. Maybe she should wake him up as well? It didn't look like his dreams were pleasant. He was now calling for Nott Buttonsmith in a language Beau thought might be his native German. That made sense, she thought. Also dreams were weird.

  


“Hey. _Widogast_?” Beau called, half whispering to his ear and snapping at him as if he was a particularly tenacious garden gnome.

  


“ _Widogast_!” She shouted.

  


She didn't care if it attracted a Prefect, she had her note. 

  


It worked. The Slytherin boy opened his eyes and was standing, his hand going straight for his neck, so fast Beau thought he might be choking. She was ready to give him a punch in the gut, she was still very salty over the boy's teasings in first and second year.

  


“When… where…” he stuttered. 

  


“It's past curfew and it's a long way to your Common Room.” Beauregard supplied, tersely. “The Hospital Wing is that way, though. Sure the nurse would like to keep you in there, preferably with a sleeping draught or something.”

  


“ _Nein_.” Widogast immediately said, fidgeting with a small golden object around his neck, a weird looking pendant. “I… I am fine, I just needed… One book.”

  


“You need a bed. Preferably not one made of metal.” Beau scoffed, looking at the sabaton that was recently used as a pillow. 

  


“You…” and for a moment it seemed the Slytherin was very angry. However, he simply deflated. “You're right.” He mumbled, tiredness and German thick, making his diction a mess. 

  


Slowly, the boy rose and dusted himself before retrieving a bag filled to the brim with books. If Widogast hadn't been pretty solid and even muscled, by wizarding standards, Beau would have worried. Well, he did lug all these books around.

  


But strong or not, the other teenager was tired and he wobbled, so Beauregard walked beside him all the way to the dungeons as he stumbled and sometimes stopped to yawn. Then, suddenly, Caleb stopped next to a stretch of bare wall and looked at it.

  


“Thank you Golechâstel.” He said. 

  


Beau looked at the wall and figured it was fitting the snakes had an entrance with no adornments or such that would reveal it. Pretty sneaky. 

  


“You're welcome.” She said. Retrieving a folded napkin from her robe, she added. “Hey, eat something before bed, hey?”

  


She put the bacon in the boy’s pocket and turned around, meeting no one else in her ascent back to the Gryffindor tower. 

  


How many classes did Molly say Widogast was taking? She wondered.

  


Then she wondered how Molly even knew and if the reason he knew was why he looked so sad and reserved. 

  


It was stupid to have crushes on workaholics with no time for relationships, she thought. 

  


_ No time _ .  _ No way! _

  


Beauregard couldn't sleep all night upon realising what the little golden object at Widogast's neck _really_ was. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters back to back because I didn't want to leave you with young!Caleb being such an asshole without adding the nuance and the apology behind it.

Upside down. Or was it downside up? Everytime he looked into that porthole window, he felt like drowning again. 

 

He had no time to dwell on this, he had to go to breakfast.

 

Or rather, he had to fetch Nott and then go to breakfast. 

 

Nowadays, only Nott or Eodwulf could wake Caleb up and Eodwulf was tired of doing so. He looked mad, as if something personal had happened between Caleb and him.

 

Fjord didn't want to pry. He had learned to nod and make his own research later.

 

Late Third Year now and he was mostly caught up. It was easy with Caleb and Astrid around: she was happy to chatter about books and spout references and Caleb would often have it on his bedside table a couple of days later.

 

Wizarding laws, customs, magical creatures, Hogwarts: A History and even drama, he was making it work. The hardest was to not suddenly spout an idiom that would reveal him for the fraud he was. 

 

“Nott! Caleb won't wake up!” Fjord yelled down the stairs leading to the girl's dormitories. 

 

“COMING!” came the shrill voice from below. 

 

Fjord had heard a story about Mollymauk Tealeaf wanting revenge for a prank by Lavorre and landing on his bum after the stairs denied him entry. He doubted such a failsafe was a thing in his own Common Room, but he didn't want to test it out, Salazar Slytherin was one sneaky son of a…

 

Fjord shut down that train of thoughts. He had to focus at all times. 

 

Today, they had Care for Magical Creatures. Fjord had not missed Professor Vessar's particularly piercing gaze when it came to him, but he pretended to ignore it, feigning interest in the practical exercise of caring for Botruckles.

 

During the class, he observed Caleb. Nott was mostly covering for him as he was deep in his reading of Ancient Runes manual and occasionally, looked up when Nott said something or showed him a trick about the trim they were instructed to give the tiny creatures (who were very happy with the haircut and docile). Fjord felt sorry for his classmate. He was constantly tired and when anyone noticed it, he would deny it, say everything was right and dive back in his book, in his essay or run to the library. 

 

The more worrying was how Eodwulf and Caleb had been joined at the hip in September and how that had quickly changed, devolving in a Cold War of sorts. Fjord wasn't proud of having overheard a discussion that sounded vaguely familiar, like the age old dispute about time and attention.

 

Caleb hadn't gone to a single Hogsmeade outing. Eodwulf had sulked during their first, because of it it seemed. Then he fulminated during the entirety of the second one. And on the third one, looking bitter, he kept glancing at a tea shop where couples had flocked on this cold February day. Fjord had not asked. Eodwulf was an open book. 

 

“It's not that he's not interested.” Nott had told the spurned boy. “He is very smart and he knows it, he can do anything once he passes his NEWTs with flying colours!” She had explained.

 

Fjord envied Nott's unwavering certainty and trust in Caleb's abilities, even as he looked like he threaded a fine line between fainting and burning out like a spent candle. 

 

“So you're telling me Caleb has feelings for Eodwulf and Eodwulf for Caleb? But he puts his work first?” Fjord repeated. 

 

Nott became very very red faced and nodded. She seemed to disapprove as well, but she couldn’t ever express doubt or a contrary opinion to the oldest boy in their year, her first friend. 

 

“Maybe we could lessen his workload?” she timidly suggested, after taking a look to check if Caleb wasn’t around. “Take notes for him and then tell him to enjoy an hour or two with Eodwulf in the next Hogsmeade weekend and…”

 

“Please don't do that.” Fjord said. “It's Caleb's choice, he has the right to put his academic success above everything. But do offer to pass on your notes sometimes and help him sleep a bit more instead. He definitely needs more.”

 

Nott nodded and returned to her Exploding Snap with the Second Years. 

 

It was very odd to see people turning to him for guidance or listening to his advice. Fjord felt particularly unqualified for it. Not just because of his First Year… mishap that cost them a shit load of points.

 

He looked around him, Nott playing Exploding Snap and her insane flying skills, as if she had been born on a broom. Astrid talking about her mother’s magical bookshop, Eodwulf always muttering about the stars and the different alignments of them his grandfather would look into when he had a particular problem with the enchantment supposed to keep his hip bone in place. Even Caleb talking about Durmstrang and the Malfoy girl listening, amazed and wishing they had the same thing, saying her fathers were petitioning the Ministry of Magic for it to change…

 

All of the confidence Fjord had built over the day crumbled. It was cold and damp, March rains having drowned Hogwarts, but he trudged outside and pulled the little ball from his pocket before dipping it in the Lake ever so slightly. 

 

Seeing nothing come up and the ball transform back into its Remembrall disguise, he sighed and got back up.

 

He didn't know what he hoped whenever he did this. He didn't know what questions to ask, if there were any answers to be had. All Fjord Tough knew was that he was here and he could do magic. He remembered how scary that had been at first!

 

A fraud, that's what he was. Fjord sighed, biting his lip and looking at the Lake, the giant squid stretched a tentacle. The young boy stretched his arm. It wasn't bigger than a cricket ball. It flew quite alright and fell into the waters. Feeling lighter, he walked bag, crossing his arms against his chest to ward the chill.

 

The next morning, when Fjord put his hand in his pocket in search of his wand before his Charms class, he found the ball beside it, its ruguous surface different, somehow. Leaving his friends to go and lunch without him, he pulled it out and noticed the difference immediately. 

 

The ball had been rugous and vaguely grey coloured. The dullness of it had gone, it was shining now and blooming in petals that made Fjord think of his school presentation on the Australian Great Barrier Reef. 

 

“How did you get this?”

 

Fjord gasped in surprise.

 

“Caleb what are you doing here?” He asked, looking at the redhead that had suddenly appeared next to him. 

 

“I've been with you this whole time.” Caleb retorted, his panda face draining some of the bite behind his words. “This is the Heart of a Merperson.”

 

“I know what it is thanks to your book.” Fjord attempted to defuse. “I just…”

 

“Where did you get this? This is illegal! Merpeople could demand justice against you.” Caleb said, moving to grab the object. 

 

Fjord, panicked, took a step back. No one could touch this but him.  _ No one. _

 

The ball turned into a trivial Remembrall again, but Caleb wasn’t deceived by the illusion. 

 

“How did you do this?”

 

“I didn’t, it just does that, look, I don’t want to explain that to you, I don’t…”

 

“You could lose us so many points, you could get expelled…”

 

“Oh, that’s your priority?” Fjord cut Caleb off, mid rant. “How about finding out whose Heart it is? Don’t they get stuck, unable to enter water again? Now you’re going to forget this or I’ll make sure Nott sets you up for a date with one of your silly crushes and you’ll lose studying time.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare interfere…” Caleb gasped in turn, his already pale complexion turning into livid, though with rage or fear, Fjord didn’t know. 

 

“But you would?” Fjord cut him off again. “I’ve had this since I was a small child. It turned into a Remembrall when I saw one during my first shopping trip in Diagon Alley. It’s a Remembrall. This is not your business at all. You will forget this or I swear to God I’ll make your life a living Hell.”

 

Caleb’s eyes turned murderous and his lips stretched into an ugly grimace that made him look crazed, a far sight from his usual placid compromising nature and sunny disposition among friends. 

 

“Sure, you would. But what if I do the same.” Caleb hissed. “What if I reveal to everyone that a filthy  _ Schlammblut _ like you is tainting the House of Salazar. Guess who would have a harder time  _ then _ ...” 

 

The redhead turned around swiftly, walking fast and far away from Fjord’s confusion. 

 

_ Schlammblut _ . He was pretty sure from context that he had been insulted, but the word was unfamiliar, foreign sounding. Fjord decided to let it go at first, going to the rest of his classes without speaking or even looking at Caleb who looked sullen and tired all day, speaking to none, not even Nott. 

 

At the end of the day, Fjord decided to speak to Professor De Rolo. He knew, after all. He had helped Fjord familiarise himself with the Slytherin House, assuring him that it was no shame but that maybe his questions would have better answers through him than with peers who expected him to be… Well, their peer. 

 

The soft and discreet smile of his bespectacled professor turned into the same kind of grimace Caleb had displayed earlier and his eyes were filled with the same rage, directed elsewhere. 

 

“I am really sorry this happened to you Fjord. It is something the British and Irish wizarding community is slowly getting rid of, thank Merlin, but Mr Widogast probably needs a reminder that this is not an acceptable word to throw around, especially after you’ve inquired after his wellbeing.” the teacher said, his voice clipped, his anger poorly concealed. “You did absolutely nothing wrong, you were too kind.”

 

Fjord felt bad for the little lie, but he couldn’t exactly tell him about having an illegal item, right? So he had simply said he had words with Caleb about the amount of classes he was taking and how it had degenerated from pride and stubbornness. A highly probable and normal scenario, right? 

 

Fjord was shooed to the Common Room and based on his first gut feeling and the subsequent translation and explanation, he half expected to arrive there and instead be greeted by stares, maybe that word again, but in English this time. He saw Caleb, behind his book fort again, scribbling away. Maybe Fjord should focus on his homework too. 

 

He missed it a bit. His parents in front of the TV playing some console game. His father throwing ball with him. His Godfather Vendren, showing him how to fish with a spear at the river, writing his homework with pen and paper, not leaving ugly inkblots everywhere and dealing with having to feed an owl.

 

He went to bed early, not wanting to deal with Caleb, but sleep did not come. He listened carefully to Eodwulf and Caleb talk tersely about the next Hogsmeade week-end, just before the Easter break. They didn't speak of Fjord at all. In fact their conversation was brief. Caleb’s snores following up soon. 

 

Fjord dreamt of being in the lake, drowning, not knowing which way was up, which way was down, a single yellow eye fixing him.

 

_ Learn. Grow.  _

 

He woke up the next morning drenched in sweat.


	12. Chapter 12

Caleb had it coming, he thought.

 

He was ashamed of not regretting his words before seeing Nott come to him with extra food from the lunch he had missed. 

 

This word… He had to apologise. He was bad at apologies, but he had to. Before Fjord looked it up and alerted a teacher, further shaming him for his short sightedness, his narrow mindedness. He wrote to his mother that evening, noticing from the corner of his eye, the other student go down the stairs to their shared dormitory. He had kept a sigh close to his chest and kept on writing. She would help. 

 

The next morning, Fjord was the first out. Caleb considered using the Time Turner to catch up with him. He didn't dare do that, though. He had to keep track of his jumps at all times and he had signed a binding contract stipulating all the consequences of using the precious and dangerous implement for personal purposes.  _ Only to attend classes. _ He was already on thin ice, using it to go to the library.

 

So he went to the owlery to send his letter instead before going to his Arithmancy class for his  _ first _ first period. 

 

There was Mollymauk there. Seeing him added more shame to his shoulders.

 

_ Mollymauk Tealeaf, so shiny and bright and so soft and so… Molly was Muggleborn. _

 

Incapable of even saying the vague hello he had managed to keep going from the beginning of the year, Caleb ducked to the opposite side of the class where Eodwulf was waiting, not speaking and focusing on his books.

 

The day was long. They all were. 

 

By lunch, Caleb was already exhausted, turning the gears in place. He also felt guilty when looking at Eodwulf but for slightly different reasons. He had asked what was wrong. Caleb had no energy for lying anymore. 

 

“He… what?”

 

“What he?”

 

“He’s a M… Muggleborn? That's impossible, the Sorting Hat shouldn't go against the Founders wishes, there must be a mistake.”

 

“Can we please focus on the lecture?” Caleb sighed between gritted teeth.

 

“Yes, Mr. Widogast, that's a very good idea!” Professor Vysoren admonished them. “Mr Gustafsson, if you please?”

 

Caleb started to avoid Eodwulf as well, but wondered if he shouldn't have just shut his mouth later, when he saw Eodwulf, Kara and Astrid look at Fjord funny and whisper in the ear of the Seventh Year Prefect at lunch. 

 

A Seventh Year Prefect who stood at attention when Professor De Rolo came to the table, his smile icy and his eyes filled with disappointment. 

 

“Mr Widogast, could you drop by my office tonight after your classes are finished?”

 

It was as if a rock had dropped down in the young man’s stomach.  _ He had it coming _ . 

 

He could already imagine being forced to return the Time Turner. His parents, in shame, would send him back to Durmstrang. 

 

_ I feel good here. _

 

_ Nott getting wind of it. Nott never writing back.  _

 

_ Molly and Eodwulf frowning. Hurt and disappointed. _

 

With heavy stomach, he endured a long afternoon of classes, each time, turning the little hourglass with the fear that it would be the last. 

 

In fear that he wouldn’t see Eodwulf or Molly or Nott again.

 

And finally, it was time. 

 

Time to ascend the familiar stairs to the gargoyle and utter the password ( _ Jenga _ ), let the moving staircase carry him to the great oaken door. 

 

Professor De Rolo was this tall and thin man. Despite looking quite young, his hair was a shocking white. His round glasses covered piercing eyes and his lips were pressed in a fine line, unlike Caleb’s previous visits. Still covered in soot from the chimney travel, Uma was here as well, standing in front of the imposing oaken desk.

 

“I'm sorry Leofred could not find the time. Thankfully I managed, I came here as fast as I could, I can’t thank you or Mr Ikithon enough for allowing me to use the Emergency Floo...” the Widogast matriarch said, her smile warm. 

 

Her look to Caleb was full of worry. Caleb felt sorry in advance for the disappointment they would hold in a minute.

 

“It's quite alright,  _ Fraw _ Widogast. The matter, though not life threatening as I already explained, is quite urgent.” Professor De Roldo said. “Please sit, we need to speak of your son’s recent argument with a classmate.”

 

Still alarmed, Uma sat, drinking the professor's words and suddenly grabbing Caleb’s shoulder like a vice as he sat down as well. 

 

“It has come to my attention that Caleb has insulted a fellow classmate with a specific term, or at least its German version.”

 

The grip on Caleb’s shoulder tightened, making his heart pound, the ticking of his heart feeling like it rung in his very ears. 

 

“What do you mean?” Uma asked, in the tone that told Caleb that she was genuinely confused. 

 

“He aggressively pointed out his classmate’s lack of direct wizarding ancestry.” Professor De Rolo clarified.

 

Suddenly, Uma’s claw on her son’s shoulder eased and Caleb witnessed the transformation unfold on her face.

 

“I see.”

 

Uma Widogast was not disappointed. She was calculating. To an outsider it might look like the witch was lost in thought, questioning, wondering. Caleb knew better. She was his mother, her face was the first thing he remembered ever seeing. 

 

“You see, two centuries ago, a man sought to divide the British Wizarding community on those grounds, following his ancestor’s doctrine. Said ancestor was the very founder of the House your son has been sorted in, but by the time I have myself been part of this House, it has been commonly admitted that such division, such elitism, while prefered by our house still for cultural reasons, was not productive. The hat now allows students like your son’s comrade to enjoy being a member of the most honourable House of Slytherin because they match all the other criteria. Dedication to the wizarding community, ambition, if only to be part of it. This… New Slytherin movement which started about two hundred years ago with former Head of Slytherin and Headmaster Albus Potter, has preserved our society from war for two centuries and even safeguarded the Statute of Secrecy at levels that the International Wizarding Community envies us. You are well aware of this, Mrs Widogast, I know.”

 

“The amount of control the Department of Muggle Relations has under Mrs Thomas is incredible and does indeed touch my own duties as a Lead European Businesses Registrator.” Uma said, her smile having that sour quality Caleb knew from her rants about that same Mrs Thomas whenever they were at home.

 

“We understand each other.” Professor De Rolo said in the manner of someone who clearly disagreed with their interlocutor and intended to trounce them until they were socially left bare. “What is an exception because of the magic imbued by a xenophobic founder has become the rule of this country and empowered our whole people. I cannot stress enough that you keep on making sure Caleb will be a good member of the Wizarding community, accepting of all of his peers, with their strengths and their weaknesses. Especially because that weakness will never be lack of magic or lack of blood.” De Rolo added. “His comrade is the third Muggleborn to be accepted in Slytherin and all of them have made themselves into outstanding members of our society, if a proof was ever needed...”

 

Caleb felt like he was watching a duel unfold, one waged with silver tongues rather than wands. Uma Widogast would have made an excellent Slytherin, he thought, idly.

 

“Well, it certainly does put some things in perspective. I will indeed talk about this to Caleb later.” Uma assured the Headmaster. “We certainly care about making an accomplished wizard of him. In every way.”

 

Caleb’s mother exchanged more pleasantries, with the Headmaster. It seemed the duel was a tie as both parties shook hands in the same kind of display of sportsmanship that led the captains of two Quidditch teams to try and crush each other’s hands to dust. 

 

Uma’s strong grip was back on her son’s shoulder and, by force of habit, Caleb let himself be led away.

 

“ _ I will answer your letter, my son. For now, keep your head low. You did nothing wrong. _ ” She said in German, her sweet voice that with which she usually allowed things Leofred had forbidden, such as drinking a whole bottle of  _ Funkeln Saft _ just before bed.

 

“ _ Alright _ .” Caleb answered. “ _ I think I'll apologise, though. It wasn't fair. I was… scared. I think. _ ” he added, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.  

 

Uma’s smile grew even more fond and she kissed her son’s brow before switching back to English again, bidding her goodbyes and stepping into the hearth, muttering her destination, which Caleb recognised to be The Ministry of Magic. 

 

“Now, Mr Widogast.” Professor De Rolo said. “I would like you to be very careful. No ambition is worth alienating your friends this way. I didn't deduct any point but if it is repeated, I will.” He stressed, his black brows a stern line. 

 

Caleb could only nod. He was tired and his mother's behaviour had confused him.

 

“You're an excellent student, Caleb.” De Rolo sighed, his own tone softening as well. “I do not want you to end up alone because you held some outdated views too close to your heart. Now, here's a note. It's past curfew and I just know you're going to spend a couple of hours in the library…”

 

“Only for classwork.” Caleb added sheepishly.

 

“Don't worry. I've been told this rule has been broken for that exact purpose for as long as this program has existed.” His teacher chuckled. 

 

Caleb only spent the hour the discussion between his mother and the Headmaster at the school library with Nott who blissfully did not ask any questions and simply straightened his books and passed some food without Miss Deshin noticing. He had trouble focusing, time blurring before his very eyes, so he went to bed, closing the curtains around him, quite early and struggled to keep his eyelids open until he heard the boys enter the dormitory. 

 

“I can't believe I didn't see the signs.” Eodwulf was saying in hushed whispers. “I heard this had happened in the past, but,  _ you… _ ”

 

“Yes, me.” Fjord said, his voice crackling in the end, something it tended to do more and more since the beginning of the year. 

 

“This is highly unusual.” Eodwulf pointed out. 

 

Caleb thought so too.

 

“The Hat… Did he propose a House? Did his song endear you to Slytherin before you put it on?”

 

“I don't even remember the song.” Fjord sighed.

 

Caleb had been so stressed he barely remembered it as well, but he knew that if he slept some more, he could bring them up. And that of last year and last September as well. 

 

“That's… I don't mean no offense, but… It's really highly unusual.” Eodwulf repeated, sounding like that asshole person who tried to make their point across without sounding like an asshole and totally failing.

 

“Well, don't I know that.” Fjord repeated.

 

Caleb’s cheeks were on fire. He drew a small magazine, his last evening read, from beneath his pillow and his wand. It was  _ Der Diplomatische Zauberer _ , the German monthly recap on European diplomatic developments. He read it because his mother read it. He opened it at the last page he had read, marked with an orange bookmark. An article which speculated on the origins of Muggleborns and why they weren't allowed at Durmstrang.

 

Caleb sighed. He carefully erased the page and thought about what he wanted to say, tuning out the conversation outside. He waited until he heard no sound and carefully slid the magazine between the curtains if Fjord’s bed. 

 

He hoped the apology sounded sincere enough.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled. i'm not good with Yasha.  
> Anyone guess what she is gets a Pumpkin Pasty

Yasha loved Mr Grog. He actually understood things. He understood not liking Hogwarts and not wanting to stay there so much anymore. 

 

She liked Quidditch, though. And her team. And even Golechâstel too, under the whole prickly act. 

 

She didn't like exams, though, and this year was the OWLs. Yasha knew she was going to fail each and everyone of them because she really didn't like studying. 

Mum was disappointed. She didn't understand. Molly sort of got it enough to not bother her about it. Molly was nice and he always was ready to help her practice her throwing skills. He actually had a nice trick to fly without holding the handle that he learned between third and fourth year apparently but “don't tell anyone”.

 

“No, I don't want Golechâstel to kill you or your whole House to call you traitor because you asked Buttonsmith to show you some tricks.” She chuckled. 

 

“Gryffindors are tiring this way. I wish I had been sorted with you, sometimes.” Molly sighed. “At least we'd be together. Beau is an asshole, Weasley is an asshole. The boys are even bigger assholes. Heck, I wish I was in the girl's dorm, it's not like I'd bother them...”

 

“You always do better when you're among the girls anyway.” Yasha said. “You're calmer. Your feminine side can be strong, too.”

 

“Am I?” Molly asked, eyebrow raised. “Well, Nott said to stop distracting Widogast with my masculine wiles so I might have a bit of both.”

 

She liked Molly’s feminine side, it was sharp and angled but it was sweet all the same. It was a side of him he didn’t show much, mostly because he was interested in Caleb Widogast who seemed to like boys, so he was making himself very boyish. Crushes, Yasha assumed, would always make someone act weirdly. She let her mind wander for a minute, watching Molly in his mind’s eye make a fool of himself, rearranging his hair, now purple, before a blushing Widogast, visible despite the dirt on his face.

 

Yasha was a lesbian, not blind. Molly was turning into a very attractive young adult. He was lean and strong and had the kind of lips she guessed one would definitely want to kiss. She saw it, she understood now. 

 

“Do you think Widogast will have to use his time traveling thing to attend all his OWLs?” Molly asked and suddenly, Yasha cut the remembering there. 

 

She liked Widogast but barely had an interaction with him before this year. Also she couldn’t afford to think about Molly pining for the Slytherin boy. She had to write that Transfiguration OWL. She hated written exams. She didn’t understand why there had to be written exams. Especially now, in the stuffy and hot Great Hall turned into a giant examination room where row after row of students were bent over their parchment. For each one, she saw exultation, disappointment, determination, different kind of faces from parents wanting the best or not caring. 

 

Mr Grog understood that. That was why Yasha didn’t panic anymore. That's how Yasha was able to speak with her friends about how hot and unbearable the weather is and generally answer people when they ask a question. 

 

Mr. Grog’s teas also helped. They aren't anything special, but they're offered from the bottom of his heart and from a place of understanding. Yasha wished her job in the Wizarding world could be that “understanding”. That she does well. She understands. She understands Molly. She understands Nott. She understands Kree and Velora. She understands her housemates. 

 

A few nights ago when she was looking for a book on understanding (it was about Understanding Omens, but still, she gave it a chance, maybe it would at least count as studying for Divination) she understood Caleb as well. 

 

_ Tired. Need to succeed. At all costs. Flames erupting from his hands and shedding from his head like hair... _

 

Yasha’s heart was always heavy when people around her hurt themselves because she felt like she understood why, like she could see where it would lead them. She too wanted to hurt herself sometimes, especially when she saw them hurt themselves even more. So she sat next to Caleb as she read her Divination book and he crammed the  _ Vanishing Spell: Advanced Theory and Gamp’s Laws of Elemental Transfiguration _ . 

 

Their studying, or rather Yasha’s unconcerned reading was calm but sometimes, Widogast would look at Yasha when changing books and smile tiredly and she would answer with a fun fact from her current reading.

 

“Did you know that shaving a unicorn for Divination components requires specific shears? This book explains why it's not the same shears as for wand making.”

 

He smiled. They chatted amicably. He didn't know that.

 

She noticed he scratched his chin a lot. She spotted the pores, looking burned and large, larger than anyone currently taking anti-acnea balm from the Hospital Wing. She knew he was older than anyone in their year, it was logical that he would grow facial hair earlier than the others. He was almost seventeen.

 

Then two Slytherin girls came, one of them Nott Buttonsmith. The other was another Quidditch player. Kara Malfoy, whom Yasha had mixed feelings about. Maybe it was because of the swampy aura around her head that she saw sometimes. 

 

Widogast suddenly stopped smiling and looking at Yasha in between turning the pages and reviewing his notes and suddenly Yasha didn't understand anything anymore.

 

There was something hidden now. Something that she could not see. When she confided in Mr Grog, he had an answer that was not at all satisfying. If only, it made her even more sad. 

 

“Those blasted Slytherin always hide stuff. Sometimes their own hearts. Have a good friend who denied himself a perfectly fine girlfriend, shapely at that, just because of Slytherin and their secrets. It's hard to understand if you don't know those.” 

 

“Where is your friend, now?” Yasha asked.

 

“Chained to that bitch in the Department of Mysteries... M’sorry, I shouldn't say bad words. I meant Head of The Department of Mysteries Quentine Rani. She is worthy of respect.” 

 

Yasha frowned. This Mrs Rani sounded like a harsh mistress. Mr Grog poured more tea and started talking about his own OWLs, how he had failed everything but the practical exams and ended up taking an apprenticeship with the previous Groundskeeper with the help of Professor De Rolo after leaving Hogwarts. 

 

Yasha knew he was trying to give her hope beyond academics. It's not that she didn't have any herself. She just knew everything would be alright in the end. No matter how many times she dreamt of Nott Buttonsmith gaunt and old, of Beauregard Golechâstel with tears and rage in her eyes, dueling the Muggle way, her wand broken, of Fjord Tough deep in water, his eyelids opening to yellow slitted pupils, of Jester Lavorre fighting her bonds, screaming and biting, of Caleb Widogast engulfed in flames and screaming and screaming, of her childhood friend, clawing his way out of the dirt again, naked, shivering and bloody, she knew in the end, they would find themselves in this very deep pit of darkness but they would be together, she would take care of them, understand them and help them fight back. She wouldn’t be doing that at Hogwarts, though, that she knew. 

 

She was pretty amazed this summer to find out that in between  _ Poor  _ and  _ Acceptable  _ grades, she had one Optimal in Divination. 

 

“That's very good!” Mum told her. “Are you sure you don't want to tell me anything? Any troubles when you're sleeping or…”

 

“No, it's ok.” Yasha told her with a smile. “Everything is going to be fine.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The debut of the famous detective agency that will rock the (wizarding) world.  
> Back to back with chapter 15 to leave you with a better mood because we all miss our fabulous purple bae.

Nott was worried. During the holidays, Caleb’s letters were bland, mundane. He didn’t invite her to come over. Yet she knew from Kara that Astrid had been there quite a lot, as well as Eodwulf. 

 

So in September, she did something she had hoped she wouldn’t have to do. She went looking for Mollymauk Tealeaf.

 

The boy, now sixteen and towering over her small figure was looking weirder and weirder as years passed. He wore cosmetics, which Nott never understood (why would anyone put a bunch of paint on their face), and he wore his uniform wrong. She knew, however, that Professor Zephrah encouraged her students to be free with their clothes just like Professor De Rolo would encourage his students to be impeccably dressed. It didn’t take much time to find him and slither in a carriage with him and two other Gryffindor students. Only too late did she realise he was with Golechâstel and Kord. She could make do, however. They weren’t here to talk about Quidditch, right?

 

“Hello.” Nott said. 

 

“Oh, hi!” Kord answered with a big toothy smile, her bi-chromatic eyes looking pretty sincere. 

 

Golechâstel grunted. 

 

“How are you Buttonsmith?” Tealeaf asked, inspecting his purple nails.

 

“Fine.” she answered as the carriage started. “I wanted to ask you something about Caleb.”

 

Golechâstel and Kord suddenly groaned and sighed. 

 

“No, please! He’s been talking about this the whole train trip!” Golechâstel exclaimed. 

 

“He didn’t invite me over this summer, did he invite you?” the Slytherin girl asked, ignoring the girl.

 

“No, he didn’t, he didn’t write at all, so I figured, maybe he didn’t want to.” Tealeaf answered, nonchalant.

 

The hurt was very well hidden, maybe it was the golden eyeshadow, Nott figured. It was very striking against his dark black skin. 

 

“I know he invited some people this year and I was afraid this would happen.”

 

Nott didn't dare say more. Caleb was a good friend (well, usually) she didn't want Bitch-châtel to start anything.

 

“Is that related to that rumour about Widogast calling Tough a Mudblood?” Golechâstel hissed.

 

Yasha and Molly were confused. Nott was immobile. They knew. 

 

“How?” Nott hissed back at the dark haired witch.

 

“Word goes around. Mostly, I overheard De Rolo talking about it with Professor Dairon last year.”

 

Nott jaw hurt, she realised. She should be careful not to grit them too much, her grandmother had warned her against it. 

 

“If Widogast calls anyone that when I can hear, I'm punching him. Just to be clear.” 

 

“Noted.” Nott grimly asserted. “I hope it will get better with our new Head of House. Professor De Rolo barely had the time to see us. He put everything on hold to do half the job of Headmaster and half the job of Head. Having someone who can take care of us full time…” she rambled.

 

The carriage slowed. Nott stopped. There was no use. She wouldn't find anything here but cordiality.

 

“I too hope Caleb isn't doing anything he doesn't want to because of his parents and a new Head of House, devoted to the students, can solve Slytherin problems.” Tealeaf told her in that fake carelessness. “Ultimately Caleb didn't contact me or come to see me during our whole Fifth Year. He has his priorities and I'm not going to wait for him. Good luck, Nott. And if Caleb asks but only if he asks, tell him I wish him good luck. Sincerely.”

 

At that point, Nott had the proof that this wasn't just a crush, that no matter Caleb was doing, Mollymauk Tealeaf would forever be hung up on the Slytherin boy, no, a man, he was of age for almost half a year now. Mollymauk didn't register as a boy anymore either, with his head held high and his confidence. He was someone who was making a decision to live his life with all the maturity he acquired since becoming a Gryffindor Prefect. Or she? Nott didn't voice this out loud. No matter the gender, Tealeaf’s dorm mates were awful and she was glad to share the burden of Prefecthood with Caleb rather than with the annoying and arrogant Weasley.

 

“Thank you for listening.” She mumbled as she exited the carriage.

 

Caleb didn't sit next to her but he did offer a wave. Professor De Rolo presented their new Flying Instructor, hired to help Professor Vessar free her time. The Slytherin did applaud Shakaste back with less vigour than Nott expected. He looked pretty amazing with his white hair adorned with glowing beads. She did feel a bit intimidated about going to him for Quidditch matters after so long and his successful if brief tour in the Thundelara Thunderers, which she was ashamed to have stayed up late at night not to miss on the Wireless, but she too was growing into a woman, despite being the youngest in their year, she was well past the half of her fifteenth year and she was going to welcome her former housemate back. She took a deep breath as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts was announced, a tall and gaunt man with jaundiced skin. Professor Ikithon. His smile made her skin crawl and she only clapped her hands twice before stopping, exchanging a look with her neighbour, Fjord, whose bushy eyebrows were knitted into a frown over his murky green eyes. 

 

“I heard he was Head of the Magical Law Enforcement in his youth, the youngest since Harry Potter himself.” a student in Fourth Year said as the food appeared on the tables. 

 

“Yes, he moved to Magical Culture to spend his old days training the next generation from the ground up, give them the best education.”

 

“He sounds so awesome. He's a hero, he is the one who arrested Laura Bailey after she betrayed the Ministry and became a Dark Witch.”

 

Nott was a bit sick of hearing this and that about the new teacher when nobody was talking about Professor Shakaste. He was going to be the new Quidditch referee, wasn't this important too? Then she remembered: most people here wouldn't remember soft spoken, helpful Shakaste because he had left after his NEWTs so many years ago...

 

Nott sighed. She had finished eating and most students were ready to start with their dessert. She was ready to coordinate with the Prefects to help hoard the First Years to the Common Room when Caleb joined her suddenly. 

 

“I forgot to warn you, Nott.” He told her with a sheepish smile. “Professor Ikithon wants to see all Prefects after every student is accounted for. For convenience, Professor Darrington lent him his office.”

 

“I thought it was going to be in his?” She asked, confused, taking the note which she had received crumpled, the ink bleeding.

 

Caleb’s face became red.

 

“I'm sorry, it was Goyle’s idea and she's… you know how she is.”

 

“And you only warn me now?”

 

“I'm sorry.” her friend told her, his eyes locking with her briefly before shame made him stare at his wrist. He had a new watch, Nott saw. He was of age. Young adult wizards and witches got a watch when they turned seventeen, not at fifteen like goblins. 

 

Nott looked at Caleb. He looked really sorry. She sighed. 

 

“It's alright.” She said with a smile. “I'm not going to curse Goyle, I promise.” Nott told him.

 

Nothing visible. Or traceable. Maybe some Goblin mag…

 

Some of her dessert went back up her throat as she thought it but she made sure a smile was still plastered to her face until they were both, along with Lavande Goyle and Sanjay Patil as well as Caelum Nott and Elizabeth Bulstrode, the new Fifth year Prefects, near Taryon Darrington office. 

 

Nott felt increasingly uncomfortable. She had grown, she knew, but being the third of the size of her peers instead of half, back when they were all children, was even more unnerving, especially with Goyle sneering at her from above. 

 

“Good, you are here.” a harsh voice started to talk from behind them. 

 

Trent Ikithon was tall and wore fancy white robes with a golden trim, but it was clear on his face that he was here for business. He met every hand and every gaze as he shook hands, spending a split second more on Caleb who had a huge smile until he reached Nott, entirely ignored her and pushed the door to Professor Darrington’s office with a flick of his wand. 

 

Steeling herself, she followed inside. 

 

“I’m sorry to delay your bedtime thusly, I know most of you have big first days tomorrow, especially the Fifth and Seventh Year among you, but I felt it important to see you. I see no one in our House made it to Head Studenthood?”  

 

“Sadly no, Professor Ikithon.” Goyle said, her voice honeyed and still not having gotten rid of that lisp, which was strange, wasn’t there a potion for this? Nott was pretty sure there was.

 

“It is too late for you, sadly, Ikithon said, watching Goyle and Patil. But it's not for Caleb. I trust you to be above reproach and go above and beyond when it comes to helping shape this school. Do not hesitate to assist him, we will have a similar system next year for Miss Bulstrode and Mr Nott.” He added.

 

Around her, her fellow students nodded with assentiment and though Caleb spared a look for Nott, a bit stunned, he said nothing.

 

Nott frowned, her brains churning. She started to really hate Trent Ikithon.


	15. Chapter 15

Jester Lavore really hated Trent Ikithon.

 

He was strict like Professor Dairon, but everytime he was admonishing someone or pointing out a mistake, he came across as cruel and humiliating rather than making sure that the student learned the right thing. Also, he had expected the whole Sixth Year class to be entirely aware that casting spells without saying the incantation was a thing and to actually know how to do it on their first day of class with a new teacher. 

 

The worst, though, was that Trent Ikithon favoured Slytherin. Well, if it had been like when professor Darrington favours Ravenclaw, well, maybe Jester would have forgiven him. After all, professor Darrington was nice and he always offered a fair amount of advice for students not of his house and never demeaned them. It’s just that he only gave actual points to Ravenclaw. 

 

Trent Ikithon would remove points for the slightest offense, including not answering quickly enough to his questions, then questioning the decision and insulting the teacher… Well, Beauregard actually was wrong to insult the teacher at the end, but Jester was really pissed off too and she would have told him to go fuck himself herself had her comrade and Gryffindor Prefect not told him first. 

 

The worst was the way he treated Nott Buttonsmith and Fjord Tough. 

 

Jester really liked Fjord. He was very cool and maybe he was very very handsome like the wizards she read about in Witch Weekly. She was certain that one day, he would actually be there, modeling for perfume advertisement like her own mother did.

 

Ikithon was always acting like they were not here, as if they did not exist. And it was even more cruel that the only reason why Ikithon was here was because he was supposed to act like professor Zephrah did for Gryffindor, professor Darrington for Ravenclaw and professor Sol for Hufflepuff. He was supposed to look after them. Make sure they were feeling alright and knew what a Hogwarts Student and a member of the House of a Founder meant. It was as if to Ikithon, Nott and Fjord weren’t supposed to be students at all.

 

At the end of one of his classes, right before the first Hogsmeade weekend, Jester fucking groaned. She never groaned. Gryffindor had lost a hundred point total because she had flicked her wand  _ too enthusiastically _ and of course, Beauregard had been Beauregard and Molly had rolled his eyes when he was taken off ten points for  _ not dressing according to code _ for wearing a  _ House Elves Rights _ pin next to his Prefect pin. 

 

Seething, Jester was on her way to her Common Room to unwind, start writing her letter to her mum. When she was abruptly shoved to the side and against the wall. 

 

Surprisingly, it was Nott. Even if Jester definitely felt her own shoulder shoved and the Slytherin girl could definitely not reach it without raising her hand. 

 

“I’m sorry Lavorre. I’ll be out of your hair;” she hurriedly said before running after Fjord. Jester looked around her. Molly and Beau were already on the case, the latter ready to chase the Slytherin student and Molly helping Jester on her feet. 

 

“Are you alright?” Molly asked. 

 

“She apologised.” Jester answered, or rather rambled. 

 

“Well, it’s the least she could do, running into you like that.” Beauregard hissed, her anger directed at the small girl who had disappeared around the bend of the corridor, probably to the Great Hall or maybe to her Common Room. 

 

“It’s ok, she apologised.” Jester repeated, her heart calming down. 

 

Maybe Nott too was pissed off by how Ikithon ignored her raised hand, by how he treated everyone but his favourite students so unfairly. Maybe she was mad because of Caleb’s smiles whenever Ikithon awarded him points for Slytherin. 

 

The note Nott had left in her bag told her to meet her after their shared Care of Magical Creatures class. It was all very enigmatic and it made her feel exactly like staying up after curfew to setup pranks. 

 

Jester, like the French Spy in the current Witch Weekly Novella, didn't look at Nott for the whole class and focused on what Professor Vessar was saying. It was very very hard to do so, especially because both Jester and Nott were the only students who kept the class. Jester wondered if Nott wanted to work with Magical Creatures later. It didn't seem likely. Nott was too good at Charms and at playing Quidditch. 

 

The end of the class arrived so slowly, Jester felt like she was going to melt into a puddle of nerves. Then, Professor Vessar dismissed them and Jester, as slowly as she could, stuffed her bag, removed her dragonhide gloves and put it on her back before carefully threading the path back to the castle without looking at the Slytherin student. When she reached the door and was greeted with the packed Great Hall, she felt a tickling to her legs. 

 

“Don’t look down.” Nott said. “Upstairs, Seventh Floor. Barnabas the Barmy. Think about goblins.”

 

Then a draught brushed Jester calves before she even had the time to process the information. 

 

It was like a game of spies. Jester could already imagine herself like in the Witch Weekly stories. It was so exciting. She soon arrived at the tapestry of the (somehow) cute dancing trolls and started to think about Goblins. Of course, her first trip to Gringott came to mind. 

 

Jester hadn’t been out very often as a child and she hadn’t met any other children before and not very many people. So Goblins had been a sight. She had asked one why they were so small, were they born that way or was that a curse? The goblin had looked at her with a look she had thought funny at the time. She had kept on smiling and the Goblin had answered that the average height of a fully adult Goblin ranged from three to four feet five, the world record for the tallest individual being five feet one. 

 

“That’s very tall for a goblin, but that’s very small for a unicorn! Have you seen a unicorn?” 

 

“Your key, Ms. Lavorre.” 

 

The door behind Jester had opened and a small girl with hair that looked green under the torchlight. Only then did Jester realise this corridor had no windows and no other decorations that the tapestry. Jester, upon learning that Nott had a goblin parent, didn’t think the Slytherin girl looked like a goblin at all. She wasn’t at all wrinkled and besides the green hair and slightly pointed ear tips, she looked like any student of Hogwarts, just a very small one.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Nott asked, hurriedly. “Come in before anyone sees you!”

 

Jester skipped into the room. It looked like an abandoned classroom, but the walls were covered in soot as if a great fire had raged. The stone floor was scorched as well and piles of ashes gathered at some places, the only reminders of the objects that had been destroyed. Jester surprised hersepf, wondering what had been.

 

“This is… Actually this is amazing, I never knew this was here, but we should dust a little bit. Or maybe entirely clean the place, this is pretty disgusting.” she commented. 

 

“I need to talk to you, you’re my last hope!” Nott said. “And please can we not… I hate cleaning.”

 

“It’s ok. Go on.”

 

“Trent Ikithon is a bad man and we should get him sacked.” Nott shot. Snarled, even.

 

Jester first exulted, jumped up and down, shouting  _ YEEEES!  _  Then she realised. 

 

“But… He’s your Head of House?” Jester said. “I mean, I noticed how he treats you and Fjord but…”

 

“Fjord too wants him out, but he has less contacts with you since he dropped Vessar’s class. It’s at the same time as Advanced Transfiguration. He also likes to keep an eye on Caleb when I can’t and I… hadatintransfiguration… So…”

 

“Wait, you had a T in Transfiguration? I thought the T grade was a joke !”

 

“Please don’t mention it.” the younger girl sighed.

 

“You’re pretty awesome at Charms, so it’s ok.”

 

“I had an O at that.” Nott said, regaining confidence. “I tutor, actually now!”

 

“Ok, ok, ok. So, how are we sacking Professor Ikithon?”

 

“I thought of reporting it to Professor De Rolo. How he treats the Slytherin House unfairly based on our origins but…” Nott started, looking unsure.

 

“Professor De Rolo is very busy because he wants to have babies with Professor Vessar.”

 

“I was going to say his hands are tied because a lot of parents and the Board of Governors all approved the application and the hire, he’s very famous and well regarded in the community… So we have to dig deep. We have to dig up the dirty, the gritty, the unsavoury.” Nott enumerated with her raspy voice, cataloguing all of the sinister deeds Trent Ikithon probably had in his dark past. 

 

“The ugly, the bad, the illegal spells cast on students!” Jester completed, each word louder than the last. 

 

“Yes, all of that!” Nott added, a smile suddenly splitting her angular face. 

 

“And then he isn’t renewed next year.”

 

“And Shakaste can become our new Head of House!”

 

“I loved Shakaste!” Jester cried our. She had been delihhted and applauded him when he was presented at the Feast. “When he was Headboy, he was so awesome, so soft and cool and he really cared about everyone and one day, when I was in the Owelry, I was crying because I missed my mum, and he hugged me and I felt so much better.”

 

“Yeah, he is, right?”

 

The two girls, out of breath kept on talking about how they were going to make distractions so they could sneak and snoop. Jester brought up her extensive Weasley Wizard Wheezes Classics collection that she got during the summer. 

 

Nott peeked at her watch and sighed. 

 

“I wonder why we didn’t speak before. You’re pretty cool.” she told the taller girl. 

 

“It’s ok, I think you’re pretty cool too and I’m happy we’re doing this.” Jester answered. 

 

“There’s one more thing?” Nott started, unsure. “Before we go to our classes. I… There’s a personal reason why I want Ikithon gone.”

 

Jester really wanted to ask why out loud but she refrained because she knew that listening was really really important. 

 

“Caleb means a lot to me. He was the first person who… Well… He did look at me weirdly at first. But when I said hello, he said hello back and then we started speaking and he calmed down and he was treating me like… Like I was a normal girl. I feel like Ikithon…”

 

Again, jester stayed still. She didn't want to spook Nott. She wanted her to tell everything so jester knew how to fix it. Fix the knot that was probably forming in Nott's throat, a result of her anxiety and fear. 

 

“I feel like Ikithon poisoned his mind. Made him go back to when he thought I didn’t matter because I’m not really a witch. I’m a convenience. I’m a magical creature. A banker at the service of wizards and witches.” Nott told Jester, flatly, like she was telling a story that wasn’t hers in that throaty voice of hers. 

 

“Anyway, Caleb helped me a lot to get along. I think if he hadn’t been my friend, I wouldn’t have been made a Prefect. So I want to help him a bit more, even if he doesn’t notice it anymore. Because he’s been good to me, even if he hurts me now.”

 

“Oh, Nott, you’re not a convenience and you are a real witch and you’re my friend and we’re going to get rid of that bad man!” Jester told her friend, crouching to hug her fiercely.

 

“Thank you Jester.” Nott squeaked. Jester pretended not to see the tears once she had rubbed them out of the girl’s cheeks. “Anyway, Tealeaf and Caleb need to go on a date before Eodwulf makes his move. I know it'll help. He'll be happier. He won't need Ikithon to validate him if he has Tealeaf and Tealeaf sounded upset when talking about how Caleb didn't write. I want Caleb to be happy.”

 

Jester’s eyes went wide with surprise and her jaw dropped. 

 

“Are you asking me… T-t-t-t-to play matchmaker with my number one best friend Mollymauk who is, like, totally not over Widogast, like, at all?”

 

“Yes.” Nott affirmed, nodding to further cement the demand. 

 

Jester screamed very, very enthusiastically and Nott beamed. 

 

_ Dear Traveler, _

 

_ I never realised that Nott Buttonsmith was so cute and so worried about her classmate Caleb Widogast. She asked for my help in getting rid of our horrible new teacher. He is not a fun man at all.  _

 

_ *A drawing of a man in wizard robes transforming into a canari and back with a speech bubble saying KWAK!* _

 

_ Anyway, she is so very cute and full of love for her friends. She is going to be meeting me in Hogsmeade with Fjord Tough (the handsome one)  and I can't wait to execute our plan to make Caleb and Molly rekindle their friendship and maybe more? I know they never kissed but they definitely should. Here are more drawings, I hope you like them! _

 

An owl set out in the grey wintery skies. Behind a gate, on a path looking well traveled, a man put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. The owl landed on his shoulder. He picked the letter and chuckled at each drawing before putting the letter in his pouch with countless of others. 


	16. Chapter 16

Mollymauk Tealeaf was not a jealous person. He liked to think that everything was borrowed. Even his wand, according to Ollivander, had chosen him rather than the other way around. Time was borrowed and it was fitting to enjoy it, enjoy yourself and even enjoying studies, was not just possible but also recommended because the knowledge might get useful. 

 

Except History of Magic. History of Magic was nap time. 

 

Caliana and Kiri were Mollymauk’s best lieutenants, especially since Caliana was now a Gryffindor Prefect herself and, Molly reckoned, it had been maybe a little bit of his fault and a little bit of Cali’s own fight with her Slytherin bullies that made her step up to her bullies so publicly.

 

Kiri, however, was much clumsier, but she was also his insight on Ravenclaw students since Velora Vessar was too busy to hang out these days. Kiri had time to grow like Cali did as well. She also had Jester and, weirdly, Nott Buttonsmith to help, not that Molly was going to complain. Any student helping the younger ones find their place was a good student and, honestly, as a Prefect it was part of their duties.

 

Molly sighed, despite himself. He needed a bath and a rest. The patrol schedule and the nightmares were a bad combination. Yet he had not slowed down more than he needed to get the grades he wanted while stealing a nap in between tutoring Kiri in Herbology and taking everyone’s September complaints to pass on to Matthew and Ophelia, the Seventh Year Prefects for Gryffindor. 

 

Matthew also happened to be the Headboy this year along with that Hufflepuff fellow who always helped Professor Gilmore with the Christmas decorations. Which was deserved, he thought, thinking of how Matthew had organised role playing sessions to help Muggleborn students and students with a magical background understand each others' worlds. He was sweet and soft spoken. Molly wished more Gryffindors were like him.

 

Molly wished Caleb was more like Matthew and would goddamn write his friends. But Molly decided that he wouldn't wait anymore. 

 

“You know what I mean?” he added, hoping Yasha understood all the bundle of feelings.

 

Yasha gave Molly a smile and a hug as the train whistled. She then seized her luggage, effortlessly climbed into the train London bound with it and Molly felt a pang in his heart. 

 

His first Christmas (that he knew of) without Yasha who was going home. Without him. 

 

With a sigh, he turned back and walked back to the castle. This Sixth Year was strange. First Nott Buttonsmith hijacking his carriage, then that Ikithon guy taking over and the strange resistance that seemed to form in the student body outside of Slytherin. Molly tried to get as far as possible from it. Never had rebelling against authority so overtly been a good idea in his books. It led to war and war meant casualties. Molly just wanted to have a normal schoolyear, go to class, graduate and help other students have a good time while doing so. So this year, Molly had volunteered to help Professor Gilmore and Keg Standt setup the Christmas decorations along with Nott Buttonsmith who showed up and was invited by their Charms teachers to lend a hand. 

 

The work was nice. One could see the couple of students who had elected to stay over the break watch as Keg carried stuff around, levitated other things and Gilmore and Nott studied the best patterns for lights and color schemes for the ornaments, letting Molly conjure his signature purple stars made of glitter, two thirds of them turned green and red by Nott and all of them made to blink by their teacher.

 

Studying the little witch, he realised how at peace she looked as she worked on Charms. Outside of Charms class and maybe on the Quidditch pit too, she seemed stressed and sad this year. Turning his look to Caleb who was passing through the Hall, focused on a book and climbing the staircase without looking at anyone while a student was asking Professor Gilmore and Nott do do more Charms tricks. 

 

“Hey, Tealeaf?” Keg called. “I think we're done here…” she said pointing at the teacher, happy to dole out advice and explanations as Nott demonstrated. 

 

“Oh, yes, we are definitely done decorating.” The Teacher did note. “Whoever doesn't want an impromptu lesson in Magical Colour Theory can go. But I'll award twenty points for Mr Tealeaf and Misses Nott and Standt before letting you go.”

 

Keg looked unaffected, Molly gave a smile to Gilmore and Nott dropped her wand but promptly caught it before it reached the ground with her innate wandless casting ability, causing more  _ ooohs  _ and  _ aaaaahs  _ in their audience. 

 

Turning around to get back to his Common Room, and maybe update the headcount for professor Zephrah as the only Gryffindor Prefect wintering at Hogwarts, Molly instinctively looked for Caleb before reprising himself.

 

He stopped halfway, next to Boris the Bewildered, examining the statue idly. With almost all of his friends away aside from Jester (with whom he was overdue for a prank collaboration and didn’t want to face her sad eyes yet), maybe he would have time to get into the Prefect’s bathroom during the holidays. 

 

A purr started to ring behind the statue. Molly looked behind it, his arm loosely wrapped around the neck of the statue. A thin ginger tabby was looking for a way out and seemed paralysed by Molly’s presence. 

 

“Oh, cute cat. Sorry I bothered you.” Molly cooed as he moved to present his open arms to the cat. 

 

The orange animal was no more than a bag of bones, the student realised as the cat hesitantly stepped into his embrace and let itself be carried. There was some green substance on his back that looked very unnatural and very sticky.

 

“Who the heck hurts animals. I hope you’re someone’s cat and that someone is taking care of you. And that someone is not being bullied through their cat. Oh, Merlin, that would be the worst…” 

 

Speaking out loud his outrage, Molly decided to open the Prefects’ bathroom, maybe the cat would let itself be cleaned a bit. If not, he would let the door open. 

 

Well, his first time in the Prefects bathroom because he was too busy managing the horrible mess that was Gryffindor while taking his exams. At least he had his O in Arithmancy and he passed Transfiguration. He didn't care much about his other classes he mused as he opened the dozens of taps, trying to find a neutral enough scent. 

 

The room itself was amazing, but Molly tried to focus on the cat first, so he tore his gaze away from the mermaid glass window and turned around, unsurprised to see the cat nowhere but his heart making a huge leap in his throat when he saw instead, Caleb Widogast, waiting on the threshold.

 

“One usually closes the door to bathe undisturbed.” The Slytherin student said.

 

“Usually.” Molly gave as a sort of answer. “There was a cat with some sort of green mark, didn't look like a spell, thought I'd give it a wash if it stayed around before I returned it to its owner. Also I haven't been to the Prefects bathroom last year. Curiosity got the best of me.” he added, trying to play it cool and act nonchalant.

 

_ Dear Merlin, please let me look like I'm cool and nonchalant. _

 

“Oh, it's your first?” Caleb asked, his voice even, but his ears turning a shade of pink that said some things Molly would have liked to contemplate under better circumstances.

 

Circumstances where he wouldn't have been ignored during the summer and during that first couple of months of school. There was something else too, but once Molly was loathe to ask, lest voicing it made it true.

 

“Well, obviously.” Molly said, playful.

 

What if…

 

To calm his breathing, Molly went to the door, going straight for Caleb. Last Hogsmeade weekend, Caleb had been hanging with Nott. He knew because Jester had said Nott had been happy to be with her friend again. 

 

He hadn't been with Gustafson. 

 

Now chest to chest with Caleb, the Gryffindor student extended his arm and silently closed the door with a slight movement of his wand. He was glad to see how focused Caleb was on his eyes, his lips. He was glad he had been wearing a witch's uniform today rather than a wizard robe, the cinch showing up his waist better in this dress.

 

He felt confident and it emboldened him towards the next step.

 

“And you, is it your first time?” He asked in turn, now that he was all over the Slytherin's personal space.

 

“No. I have been before.” Caleb answered.

 

His blue eyes were intensely focused on Molly still, looking down on him from being taller. The Gryffindor wanted to put his hand on the boy's chin. No, man. He was stubbly around the mouth and made him wonder what it would feel to kiss him. It probably wouldn't be like kissing Jester on a game of Truth of Dare during the mandatory sleepovers she held over the summer. It would scratch. Molly wanted Caleb teeth to scratch his lips now. 

 

For some reason, Caleb was leaning towards Molly and he decided that heck, he was going to do it. His lips felt the stubble, tingled from it, or was it the excitation of making such an intimate skin contact? He didn't know, but the soft sigh that Caleb almost made him giggle. 

 

Caleb closed his eyes and Molly felt bad for it. Had it been unwelcome? The Slytherin was not moving, instead breathing in and out very calmly and audibly. So Molly indulged in his wish and put his hand to the side of Caleb's face, relishing it when Caleb leaned into it.

 

“Can I?” Molly asked, thumbing the cheekbone, feeling the difference between skin and stubbly shadow, how the ginger became gold in the light of the nearby lantern, much like his lashes, half obscuring his blue eyes (what a shame).

 

“What?” Caleb gasped, his voice low but still confused.

 

“I…” Molly stuttered. “I want… I mean I wish I can… If I…”

 

_ I'm going to call upon Morgana's name now, you aren't my favourite wizard anymore, Merlin. _

 

“Kiss me? On the mouth?”

 

Molly's eyes widened and a hunger seized his gut when the voice, not very different from a purr and suddenly accented again like in First Year (but, oh, so different!) said those two words.

 

His entire body was wracked by anticipation and his throat was a tad blocked by a small knot of nervousness but he nodded all the same.  _ Mollymauk Tealeaf had Caleb “Workaholic” Widogast pinned to the door of the Prefects’ Bathroom and they were about to kiss. _

 

His mouth was much softer than his stubbly jaw and when Caleb's tongue licked Molly's bottom lip, the wetness was strange but not bad. In fact, Molly, wanting more, opened his own lips to dart his own tongue out.

 

Caleb's hands came to rest at the small of his back  and suddenly, Molly was very far away from Hogwarts, Avalon or Heaven, he knew not, but he was floating, the smell of the bath waters he had been drawing for the cat only heightening the sensation of being carried by  _ whatever it was between them _ . 

 

The kiss seemed to last forever and honestly, Molly would have kissed much longer. However, air was a thing, a good thing and Caleb didn’t remove his arms from around Mollymauk, which was a good sign. 

 

“I…” Caleb started, his blue eyes glistening in the low light. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Sorry?” Molly repeated numbly.

 

His midsection was numb too from the abrupt loss of contact.

 

“I shouldn't have. I… Shouldn't have led you on.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Molly took a step back. 

 

“You see… NEWTs… They're important and I… I know other people do but I want to… To focus and I think it's the best for me.”

 

Molly briefly closed his eyes as he nodded, preventing any tears and plastering a smile to his face.

 

“Sure. I understand.”

 

“I… I am glad.” Caleb breathed out, sounding relieved. “I… I really like you and… Well, I guess it would be a good time to apologise according to Astrid so… I'm sorry that I didn't write over the summer. I should have. At the very least.”

 

“It's alright.” Molly said, his voice sounding foreign, too low and too bassy. “I figured you were doing a summer internship or something.”

 

“Actually, I was doing something even better.” Caleb giggled excitedly, his eyes suddenly glowing and his smile, oh, his beautiful smile, turning proud and Molly now regretted everything. “You told me something about a cat earlier?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

Turning around, Caleb checked the door which was of course securely locked. 

 

He then took Molly's hand in a rough gesture that shook the last of Molly's more romantic emotions. Then he stared into his eyes in a way that made the Gryffindor student want to draw his wand. 

 

The change was as sudden as it was unexpected and suddenly, Molly’s hand was empty and a ginger tabby was purring at his feet, looking entirely too proud of himself.

 

“Wait… You were the cat?” Molly gasped, his eyes wide as saucers. 

 

The transformation was much slower and eerie, Caleb’s limbs slowly elongating from the tabby’s cute little legs. Molly was amazed. He had done it. 

 

“Wait, what’s with the green thing on your back?” the Gryffindor asked. 

 

“Jester.” Caleb pouted, dusting his clothes. “She threw paint at me and it apparently stayed as I transformed trying to avoid you...”

 

Silence fell between the two of them. 

 

“I… I didn’t mean it like that.” Caleb blurted out, panic seizing his blue eyes. “I mean, I wanted to be alone in the bathroom that’s all.”

 

“No, I get it. Privacy.” Molly assured him. 

 

_ But why would he need to justify himself if he didn’t want to avoid me. _

 

“It’s… Yes. Privacy.” Caleb repeated, numbly. “But not just that. You are very distracting, Mollymauk. I can’t afford to be distracted.”

 

“How do I distract you?” Molly interrogated. Oh, curiosity was going to be the death of him.

 

Caleb sputtered, his face becoming entirely red, so much Molly could have hung him in the Gryffindor Common Room. 

 

“You’re… So nice. And you love Arithmancy. Not even for the same reasons I do, which is fun because our conversations don’t always devolve into…”

 

“Into endless congratulations on your skills and how you’re the Brightest Wizard of the Age who is probably going to get the Hermione Granger-Weasley Award at the end of school and become Minister of Magic by age thirty?”

 

“Exactly!” Caleb exclaimed, relieved. 

 

“Well, someone’s got to keep your feet on the ground. We don’t even need to snog in the Prefect’s Bathroom for that.” Molly said with a small smile. 

 

“But I want to kiss you in the Prefect’s bathroom.” Caleb dejectedly sighed, looking beat and tired. 

 

Molly blinked. Caleb was echoing his own thoughts, his own desires. Morgana, he needed it! However, Caleb turned around, showing his back to Molly, removing his footwear and sitting by the pool now full with the scented waters, dipping his toes. 

 

The sadness, the frustration, all were laid bare and Molly was seeing them in the way Caleb’s shoulders and head were hunched and hanging low, uncharacteristically so. Mollymauk removed his own shoes and thighs and sat next to Caleb, still giving him the space. 

 

Molly had no idea what it meant to have a path so heavily encumbered with pressuring peers and marked out by the expectations of adults. Aside from Hogwarts, Molly had no parents demanding outstanding results, Gustav being content to hear from Yasha’s mother that he had good grades and was considered a good enough student to be given more responsibilities. The teachers mostly encouraged Molly to continue on his tracks, saying that a clear path could come any time and even that one wasn’t fixed. 

 

Meanwhile, Caleb had come from overseas. Molly remembered his accent, back in First Year and now his perfect Received Pronunciation felt bland in comparison. 

 

“You know, expectations are not something I’m familiar with.” Molly said as he realised it. “But we don't need to have any when it's about us. As long as we trust we won’t hurt each other, we can do whatever the heck we want. If you want to try.” 

 

This time, it was Caleb who kissed Molly. On the cheek, softly, his nose grazing Molly’s ear. 

 

“I’m… I’m not sure. I’m scared.” He mumbled as Molly’s arms encircled the taller Slytherin boy, shaking like a leaf. 

 

“It’s ok to be scared.” Molly shushed him. 

 

They spent some time here, Caleb letting out tears that felt to Molly like they were a long time coming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is the entire reason why this fanfic was being written : Young!Widomauk snogging in the Prefect's Bathroom.


	17. Chapter 17

Caleb Widogast had not cried like this since he was ten years old. The outpouring of them seemed to drain all of his fears, all of his stress and his overall negative energy as well as his energy. Molly, after that first kiss he had not expected, had not pushed Caleb further into affections.

 

And despite his promise, the one he cowardly invoked to reject Eodwulf’s more explicit advances and wishes to officialize tentative kisses, Caleb had started a relationship with another person. 

 

It didn’t have a name, but it was a relationship, he realised. It wasn’t because Molly didn’t want, or rather needed, to parade it by holding hands in public or snogging where anyone could catch them or walk each other back to their respective Common Rooms that it wasn’t a relationship. They were snogging and cuddling in the Prefect’s bathroom, in the name of Agrippa! Thank the gods he didn't cry in the following meetings. It was really embarrassing. 

 

Molly acted completely normal outside of these… dates? Rendez-vous? Caleb didn't know, though the other student's eyes were saying an entirely different thing. Especially when he was wearing witch robes rather than wizard robes, probably because it was his preference of dress. Even his Muggle wear, which was not Caleb’s specialty, but he had the gist of it, was all jumbled and mixed and wonderful in colours and during the February Hogsmeade weekend, Molly was wearing a cinched coat with a pleated skirt above see through thighs and it made Caleb feel things in his nether regions that were quite new and… Distracting. 

 

He was distracted. Exactly what Professor Ikithon had warned Caleb against. 

 

Yet, when he received the grades for the first mock NEWTs of the year, he noticed that his grades had not changed. If not, he had actually outdone himself him Arithmancy recently, probably thanks to Mollymauk's tips on calculating specific alignments that Caleb always found out a bit harder to figure out than other arithmantic works, like spell etymology, but where Molly breezed through. Similarly, Advanced Transfiguration with Professor Stormwind, the very young and excitable teacher who had no patience whatsoever (reason why years one to five were Professor Sol’s responsibility) had praised him recently.

 

It might have been his recent success in his Animagus form trickling down onto his classwork.

 

The fact that Molly knew made him shaky but not with fear. It was more about it being extra special. Caleb had to admit that it felt good to be with Molly because he could confide in him and find reassurance and counsel at best, unconditional support and promises to try and help the best he could at worst. It made Caleb feel like this relationship was actually very one sided. What had he offered Mollymauk in exchange for his kindness, his kisses… in exchange for letting Caleb cry on his shoulder for almost five entire minutes? 

 

He had to stop it, it wasn't fair, he thought as he opened the letter his owl had brought him this morning.

 

The feeling only intensified as he read its contents. He couldn't expose Molly to this. He couldn't just take from Molly and only give intolerant parents only concerned with their career and their lineage in return. 

 

And then, what? Go back to this closet made of expectations, pressure, gazes heavy with an image of Caleb that he wasn't entirely sure was him? Or maybe date Eodwulf? His parents would be delighted. They had loved having him over, Eodwulf had also been perfectly at ease with them, mentioning his parents, his ambitions. But to Caleb it felt wrong. Eodwulf was nice but, he didn’t exactly support Caleb the way Caleb wanted to be supported, instead adding more pressure, more material. Eodwulf added to the stress, never relieved it and… And well, they knew the same things, now, while Molly was a trove of trivia, gossip and even obscure academia that Caleb had not delved into yet, focused on standard curriculums. And Molly was nice to people like Nott and Fjord. People in Slytherin seemed to forget them since the beginning of the year. Caleb was ashamed to say that, while he avoided Fjord for different reasons, he should have talked with Nott more. She was his best friend. His first friend. 

 

Nott barely spoke to him anymore after Caleb had defended Trent Ikithon to her. She didn't know, and he didn't want her to know, how Uma and Leofred insisted. How it made Caleb sick to think of how many times Ikithon had come to the Widogast House to confer with the head of house and seemingly whisper words. Words Caleb knew were everything Uma Widogast had hoped for her house, for her family. And who was young Caleb to step in when suddenly, everything seemed to smile for them. Money. Power. Advancement. 

 

Besides that, Professor Ikithon didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong. He was a bit unfair with people outside of his House, but preferences happened, right? 

 

Maybe after that project of Mother. Maybe after that project was realised, he would break it off with Molly. In fact, he would have to. Head of a Ministry of Magic Department had journalists preying on them, she was right in her letter. He had to be above reproach. Work first. He couldn’t also face Mother’s wrath and how it would be directed at Mollymauk, he simply couldn’t make him go through this. 

 

_ Molly's smile, Molly's lips, the desire to slide his hands beneath his clothes... _

 

Caleb was doomed. 

 

He soldiered on. Dove into his work, made all the extra assignments and indulged in Molly’s affection when they were alone in the Prefect’s bathroom after their rounds. He loved hearing about his day, about all the students he was helping, from any house. He had the best stories about them, most of them mundane. A Fifth Year crying about a P in mock OWLs, another very angry at not being picked for the Quidditch Team.. Sometimes Mollymauk would ask something academic and Caleb would be glad to offer his help, eager to repay this debt he owed, even if it felt shallow to pay for emotional support in tutoring. 

 

He missed Nott. When their eyes met these days, it was because she had slid some more food on his plate and when she tapped his waist, making him realise the hour. Her eyes were still filled with disappointment and disapproval. She still would not speak to him despite still showing how she cared. That discussion had not been fun. 

 

“Trent Ikithon is carving a rift between Slytherin and the other Houses.” she had said. “Can’t you see? The last time someone did that, it caused a war because Hogwarts is the cornerstone of wizarding education in the British Isles. Don't you think that's odd from someone who was Head of the Department of Magical Culture?” 

 

“Actually, I think that maybe he knows what he's doing. There is a difference between Houses. All students are different. Would Mollymauk Tealeaf be a good addition to the House of Slytherin? I don't think so.”

 

“Why? Because he's Muggleborn or because you don't think he's given himself the means to reach his goal?”

 

“Both! Look how Fjord felt so out of his depth at first, how much work he had to catch up. He'd had been a better fit for Gryffindor. Heck, he has good grades, Ravenclaw would have suited just fine. You’re very brave, you would have made an excellent Gryffindor.”

 

“You don't understand how this works at all, do you?” the girl muttered, her eyes downcast, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but near him. 

 

“Of course I do.” Caleb exclaimed, trying to catch her eyes. 

 

“I mean people, Caleb. I mean people.” Nott had hissed before she ran away, the pitter patter of her step, measuring the time it took for Caleb’s heart to skin in his chest. 

 

He highly suspected she was behind a big part of the pranks that were starting to be sprung around Ikithon, despite her rock solid alibis. They were all too convenient, too good, and a lot of the exactions, as far as Caleb knew, would have demanded access to the Slytherin Common Room and yet… Maybe he was paranoid. Maybe he needed the summer holidays to come and give her space. 

 

Then it came. The time  to stop it. He had to, Caleb told himself one last time when he saw the entire double page dedicated to the new wizarding companies export opportunity and companies incubator,  _ a successful project that accelerated the career of Mrs Uma Widogast _ …

 

He put his face in his hands, rubbed at his eyes with his hands, sighed into them, letting his hot breath warm his face. This was it. Yet, around him, students were speaking about Quidditch, the finals were close, or the weather, the sun was shining bright and the air was heavy with the waters smelting from the ground and the rainstorms of yesterday. Exams were about to resume as well and the Fifth and Seventh Year were in a hurry to head to the library to find some peace before a wild week-end made of Gryffindor vs Slytherin rivalry (as usual…).

 

No one was looking at Caleb thinking  _ “his mother is that upstart German who just became our Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation”  _

 

Except Trent Ikithon.

 

The Defense Against the Darks Arts was at the teacher's table, The Daily Prophet opened at that same double page, his smile was wide and directed at Caleb. Around him, other teachers were also holding the journal, discussing among each other, only giving Caleb quick glances. Professor De Rolo, specifically, was looking at Ikithon with venom in his eyes. Caleb was reminded of his encounter with Uma three years ago. Mother was still winning today.

 

Tearing his gaze away from the professoral table, Caleb decided to eat and look for Molly's gaze at the Gryffindor table.

 

Merlin, he was beautiful with his hair relaxed and given a softer pattern of curls, coloured a deep purple, like his lipstick. Caleb wondered how he found Eodwulf even remotely attractive so long ago. Eodwulf was currently chatting with Kara Malfoy and Astrid, his pale face and his dark hair jarringly warring with each other and yet, he looked like every boy at the Slytherin table.

 

In fact, even Fjord looked like every boy at the Slytherin table. Every girl, even Nott, were holding each other the same way, as if coming out from a mold, their hair the same with only a couple of differences, bangs to the left or right, small adornment, green or silver, the uniform impeccably pressed and their cutlery held in their own specific way. Really, for a minute, Caleb looked at his house and saw through the mask. 

 

The Prefect's Bathroom didn't stay empty for long. As usual, Caleb had removed his shoes to dip his feet in the pool-like tub, the smell of the waters energising him, making him feel much more calmer. He felt Molly's hands on his shoulders and his perfume add another layer of soothing smells around him as he the Gryffindor student sat behind his peer. His…

 

“Tell me?” Caleb said. “What do you need?”

 

“Me? Need? Just your company.”

 

“That… I mean, what do you want?” 

 

Molly's hands froze and suddenly, Caleb's shoulders went cold as Molly took a step back.

 

“You're so helpful. You listen so much. You support me. I want to do the same for you, that's all.”

 

“Are you asking to become my boyfriend?” Molly asked.

 

Caleb stayed silent. 

 

_ Take care of it by May as I will have important duties that such a relationship cannot stain.  _

_ stain.stain.stain.stain.stain.stain.stain.stain.stain... _

 

“I… I can't. I just want to do something nice for you.” He managed to say, incapable of holding Molly's gaze longer. 

 

Molly sighed and for a second, Caleb could hear all of the other student's frustrations and feelings about this in his breath. His whole demeanor changed. Where he was springy and clingy, he was now stiff and put distance between them. 

 

He wanted as many things as Caleb wanted, that was certain now.

 

“I  feel like we're on the right path for both of us. Emotionally as well as when it comes to our studies.” Molly started. “I feel like we're on the right path because you are starting to care about me. Not as much as I care about you, but you care.” 

 

“There is a however coming.” Caleb pointed out, coldly. He meant to deliver this in a much more neutral tone. He felt like he was lashing out instead, but he couldn’t take away the words, now? He had given out his Time Turner anyway. 

 

“I thought I could do it but this slowness… This hiding… It doesn't suit me. I find myself not having the patience for it, no matter how much I want to be patient about it.” the Gryffindor student confessed.

 

Caleb breathed in the minty fumes of the bathwaters sharply. Mollymauk was right. 

 

“It was good while it lasted.” the Slytherin muttered. 

 

He wanted to cry again. He couldn't. He couldn't when Mollymauk was probably hurting more. He was the one who poured the most of him into… Whatever this was. 

 

Caleb spent the summer break in a daze. Home had become a festival of new faces, of dinners. Caleb was obligated to attend but could spend the day as he wished. He decided to write to Molly once to tell him about the summer job his mother got him at the Ministry lobby, Wand Weighing and Identification Assistant. Mostly brainless note taking, faces blurring, woods and components crisp under the magical quill taking his dictation of the results on the magical scale. 

 

After work, he would hangout with Astrid since Eodwulf wasn’t an option anymore and Nott still wanted him to apologise for… In the absence of the smaller witch, Astrid was much easier to talk to. The young woman had been given a studio in Diagon Alley this year, as she was soon to be of age and was expected to find a job and support herself once she graduated. Baby steps. 

 

“Just a taste of what it's going to be. Rent is paid for the moment but they did make me find a job to pay for my own food. I'm bartending for now, it's enough. You're lucky your mum got you a Ministry position. They're pay well?” she explained. 

 

“I don't know. I'm saving it all.” Caleb said. “Say, what would you do if you wanted to say to someone ‘I'm sorry we didn't work out but can we still be friends?’… but with a gift?”

 

Astrid's eyes sparkled.

 

“Is it for Eodwulf or for Tealeaf? Because they won't like the same things.” She asked, teasingly.

 

“You…”

 

“The whole school knows. Lavorre said she saw you go to the Prefect's Bathroom together.”

 

“Did you write to my mother?” Caleb asked, anger a little flame threatening to burst in his gut. 

 

“Honestly… I won't say who.” Astrid told him as she settled deeper in her couch.. 

 

“Come ooooon!” Caleb sighed. 

 

“It's Eodwulf. I don't approve of Tealeaf, I think he’s a little twat… but Ed really has a problem if he's not going to respect your choices. Honestly if it's for him, save your money. Tealeaf deserves it more...”

 

“It's for Molly.” Caleb muttered.

 

Astrid went to a cupboard in her kitchen area and pulled two bottles of Firewhiskey.

 

“The advantages of bartending.” She smirked as she poured them two shots each.

 

Caleb gulped them, burning his throat but determined. Astrid summoned a catalogue that seemed to be filled with various stuff apparently geared towards treating your significant other right. 

 

When he came back home on the following morning, reeking of alcohol in yesterday’s clothes and having missed a dinner party, Leofred's eyes said it all. Uma's rage was simmering just beneath the line, probably because it was Caleb's first offense, but the Hogwarts letter (his heart made a somersault when he realised it would be the last, not counting NEWT results) put her on edge for a reason Caleb didn't know.

 

Opening it nonchalantly over his water (his parents had wisely withheld any potion or magical help, which he understood as a warning to brew his own stock), Caleb read attentively his list of books and Professor Vessar-De Rolo's letter about NEWT levels and apprenticeship opportunities.

 

“So?” Uma asked. 

 

“So what?” Caleb answered. “It's my list of books and a call to book career counsel time with our Head of House by December.” 

 

“There isn't anything else?” The head of House Widogast pointedly asked.

 

“Why would there be anything?”

 

“What your mother meant is, we are aware of Hogwarts’ tradition to appoint Heads of the Student body among the Prefects.”

 

“You don't have to be a Prefect to become Head Student.” Caleb explained. “Keg Standt last year, became Head Girl and she never was a Prefect, she just was fascinated with castle decorations at events and helped every single time. There's some Potter who became Head Boy because he was the Headmaster's favourite from having best grades in his former subject as well as being an Animagus.”

 

Uma's eyes turned stormy and Caleb wondered who had made a mistake in her perfect weave of plans and ambitions.

 

“De Rolo probably promoted that bloody beast in your year then.” Uma muttered. “It doesn't matter, son. As long as you take care of your family… your family first, where are you going?”

 

“I'm going back to drink Firewhiskey with my friend, sounds better than whatever you just said.” Caleb grunted as he rose from the table, grabbing toast, the Prophet and his cloak back.

 

“You will stay here, we must speak of that Muggleborn you were dating… He distract…”

 

Caleb turned around, wanting to shout at them that he didn't care. Both his parents took a step back. 

 

Scared.

 

Caleb, confused, Disapparated on the spot.

 

At the Diagon Alley Apparition Point, many people had to cover their ears against the very loud Apparition of the younger man. Caleb was pretty sure he left a couple of hairs behind, but he did not care, rushing to Gringotts, then to Astrid's, he had made his decision. 

 

They mean well.

But meaning is not the same as doing. 

 

“Hey, do you need a roommate?” 

 

Astrid laughed and opened the door wide. 

 

_...initially a German Ministry envoy, she quickly rose to prominence as an invaluable source of insight into mainland Europe commerce, promoting both excellent diplomatic relations and outstanding trade practices, helping foster special ties between Wizarding Britain and Der Zauberische Länder. Her appointment to the Head of the Department of International Relations is a surprise to most as that post has often been reserved to British nationals, but Mrs Widogast already reassured everyone that she has the best interests of the Isles in mind and as her topmost priority. Her husband is a stay at home wizard who sells enchanted candles as a Witchy Scents Ambassador and their son is currently finishing his Sixth Year as a Prefect at Hogwarts.[1] _

_ [1]The Daily Prophet's of May 13th 2196. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only time I'll ever mention Tiberius Stormwind.  
> Yes they still love each other.  
> Yes there's gonna be plot to put them back together, but Molly's gotta become a carnie and Caleb's gotta become a hobo first.  
> All in good time.   
> Stormwind was a Horned Serpent at Ilvermorny.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for guns  
> All of this is from the perspective of a witch who has little knowledge of guns

“Mummy, it's my seventeenth birthday.”

 

Marian Lavorre kept on trying to wipe the imaginary stain on her daughter's sleeve with a focus born in stubbornness. 

 

“Oh, yes, yes. You're a grown witch now.” She absently said.

 

“Mummy? Are you crying?” 

 

Marian's hands stilled and held Jester's wrist softly.

 

“It's just. Dust. There's a bit of dust in my eye, that's all.” Marian said, her smile beautiful. 

 

Jester wanted to cry too. But she couldn't. She was an adult now and she had to be strong for her Mummy. So instead, she hugged her and talked very fast.

 

“I'm just going to see Nott. Her house is hidden in Muggle London but it's not far at all, on Adler Street. I will be walking down to the Leaky Cauldron, then take the Underground to Adler Gate or whatever and then I will be walking and I will not use magic and I will be very very careful and Molly told me a lot about dressing Muggle and pretty and it's all very safe and I'm going to be back before seven and you'll never notice I was gone!”

 

“Yes. Yes. A grown woman.” Marian repeated as she kissed her daughter's hair. “I just… This is the first time you're going somewhere alone.”

 

“Mummy, what about when I am at school?” the daughter asked, taking her mother’s hands in hers.

 

“We're going to the train station together… and it's different too. I know Hogwarts and while you told me a lot about your friend, I only have been to the Muggle world a handful of times and what if you meet…” Marian trailed off, her gaze turning from worried to wistful. “I should tell you.”

 

“Tell me what, Mummy?”

 

“You know what, we'll see tonight. You'll be late to your playdate.”

 

“Mummy, I'm older now, it's not a playdate! Nott is going to be seventeen soon too!”

 

“But you'll always be my little girl.”

 

Jester cooed and gave her mum a resounding kiss on the cheek before extricating herself from her embrace and saying a last goodbye before leaving the Lavish apartment they were inhabiting in the heart of Diagon Alley.

 

She knew the walk by heart, but Mummy was right. Jester was going. To. The. Leaky. Cauldron. Alone.

 

This put a lot of things in perspective. She could see herself as a little kid and her Mummy in her disguise back when her long dark hair had no grays making this very same trip with Jester's trunk rolling next to them as they got ready to Apparate to King's Cross Station. 

 

She would be Apparating on her own to Kings’ Cross now. No need for side-along. 

 

At the pub, Jester lingered and decided to order a drink and study the Muggle map Nott had provided on the little slab of black palstick. 

 

“You're not a baby anymore.” Jester told herself out loud as a group of people in Muggle wear entered the pub

 

She was nervous because her mummy was right and she was about to step into outside of the Wizarding world alone. How strange was it, she thought. 

 

Her reverie was interrupted by clicks and clacks and then, what sounded like Wildfire Whizbangs being detonated.

 

Except instead of lights, it was pure darkness. She could hear cries and shouts and spells being casted and the cackle. Petrified, Jester only fell to the ground when she heard Claudia, the pub's owner, ask her if she was alright and touch her arm. It stung and she realised that her blue shirt sleeve had a dark stain on it. 

 

“Mummy will be worried.” Jester said.

 

“Yes, she will. My owl is here, do you need to send her a message before I bring you to St Mungo?” 

 

“No. I'm fine. My friend has a Chimney. I'll call her from there.

 

“Are you sure you don't want to get your wound seen to?”

 

The dust was settling, Wizards in red robes were catching the criminals and their strange destructive tools. Wands? She heard Yasha talk about it once.

 

“I'll be fine. I can do it.” the younger witch said, beaming at Claudia. “She lives by Adler’s Gate Underground Station. I’m just taking the Boob.”

 

“The Tube.”

 

“It’s funnier when you say it that way.” Jester said with a wink and a skip.

 

Jester stepped into Charing Cross Road. She took a deep breath and she kept on thinking about all the fun things Nott and her would be talking about. Yes, she thought as she bumped the little palstick, the blue one, onto the machine like Nott had said it was for. 

 

Yes.

 

She almost missed her stop trying to stopper her vials of ink properly by hand and gave up quickly, vanishing the stains with the wand concealed in her sleeve. During the walk, she kept looking at everyone, feeling like anyone could start cackling and explode like a firecracker. That would be a terribly fun thing to do, she felt. Her arm was starting to feel heavy, like lead, but she ignored it and kept on her way. 

 

She arrived at the address she was given, behind a fountain that looked like a hippogriff. Jester closed her drawing book and breathed in and out before knocking on the door.

 

“Jester! You're late. Are you ok? What this on your arm?”

 

“You won't believe what happened!” Jester exclaimed excitedly. “By the way, can I use your fire to call my Mummy? Just to tell her I'm here!” She added with a beaming smile. 

 

“Sure, sure!” 

 

Jester and Nott did play after Jester sent a small paper saying “I arrived at Nott's” in the flames, but they mostly talked until Mrs Buttonsmith offered Jester the use of the Chimney to go home. It was already six.

 

“Wait a minute.” Mr Buttonsmith said in a gruff manner.

 

His long slender fingers waved and Jester felt a prick in her arm as well as a burn. Suddenly, her arm felt good and light.

 

Mrs Buttonsmith gave her husband a look of “we'll speak of this later” but Nott's audible sigh clued Jester in. 

 

“They were weapons. Not fireworks.” She whispered.

 

Nott hugged Jester at the waist. 

 

“I think you should Floo home, Jester.” Mrs Buttonsmith said, her voice barely reaching through. “Be with your Mummy. It was very nice of you to Floo her a note, but she will want to take care of you.”

 

“I'm seventeen.” Jester automatically answered.

 

“Even seventeen year old adults could use a hug from their Mum.” The older witch told her.

 

Mr Buttonsmith from the living room sofa, holding the Evening Edition, whose front page had the Diagon Alley passage in the Leaky Cauldron being pelted with projectiles. 

 

“Thank you, Mrs Buttonsmith. For letting me use your Chimney.” Jester said very politely. “I had tons of fun with Nott today, I hope we can meet and speak more.”

 

“Of course, my sweet.” Mrs Buttonsmith said with a warm smile. 

 

As a witch, she used a wand to clean Jester's sleeve and mend the hole in it but Jester was not scared. She hugged her friend, her mother and gave an exaggerated bow to Mr Buttonsmith who huffed from behind the oversized journal.

 

Jester didn’t realise how much she had missed the Lavish interiors, the red silks and the pink cushions and the plush sofa and yet...

 

“Jester! I didn’t want to intrude on your day and you told me you were fine.” Marian exclaimed. She sat up, leaving the Evening Edition fall casually to the floor.

 

Jester looked at her mother, still covered in soot. 

 

She was home and yet, she felt like the door, shut and protected with all the standard charms and an additional layer of protection on account of her mother's celebrity, would burst open and strange men in strange clothes would cast their spells, send their pellets at her with their strange tools.

 

She tried to smile, she really tried to. 

 

“No, Mummy, I'm not ok.” She whispered, tears prickling the corner of her eyes. 

 

Marian Lavorre immediately went to her daughter to engulf her in her embrace, tight and encompassing and above all loving.

 

*Several scratched out doodles of highly exaggerated gun like forms held by men with too big heads and eyes with snarls etched in the middle of their faces in lieu of eyes.*

*A doodle of a feminine form on the ground in a pool of blue liquid, her eyes crossed out. The entire drawing has also been crossed out.*

_ Why weren't you here? _


End file.
